Where Pretty Things Go
by siriusblc
Summary: James remembered. Lily didn't want to remember. It was 1976 and everyone was going a bit mad.
1. Prologue

It was a normal day.

The students enjoyed the remaining hours of sunlight outdoors, the weather being rather agreeable on that day. The fading light cast abnormal shadows all across the castle, most especially in the window-laden corridors of the upper floors. Tucked behind a tapestry, a couple clung to each other, desperate lips pressed everywhere. At the sound of clicking heels, the couple pressed deeper into their hiding place, hushed.

A clever redhead walked past, seemingly unaware of their presence. A sniffle met their ears, but as the young witch turned the corner, the couple latched back onto each other—the crying girl was long forgotten. The firm tap of mary-janes against marble flooring echoed throughout the floor, the redhead ascending ever further. There was a loud sniffle and a curse. "God," she muttered, pausing at the very top of a winding staircase.

Frantic for air, she pressed on, and finally emerged at the top of a tall turret. She strode out onto the wide terrace, red hair whipping around her. Rubbing her bloodshot eyes, she neared the edge of the balcony, breathing in the sweet summer air. There was a shuffle, and from the corner of her eye, she noticed a couple edging off of the terrace, fingers intertwined. She couldn't even be bothered to scold them.

Something clawed at her throat. When it became clear that she was alone, the girl let out a strangled cry and collapsed into a heap, fingers clawing at the grubby stone flooring of the terrace. Her tear stained cheeks were a crimson far more violent than that of her hair, her eyes rimmed with red, her fingertips bleeding from where she'd dug them into the floor below her.

Another scream escaped her.

It was a normal day, but only for some.

The next day, she sat amongst her fellow Gryffindors, tired and withdrawn, but alive. She met a pair of dark eyes from across the room, but the brief contact was lost as Professor Minerva McGonagall—a firm, middle-aged witch—appeared before the students.

"It is to my understanding," she began, looking ruffled, "that a student has gone missing."

The room descended into whispers and murmurs. The professor peered around the room sternly until the noise dimmed. The redhead ignored the knot in her stomach. She felt eyes on her but didn't dare to look up. McGonagall yielded her position to the headmaster—Albus Dumbledore.

"Hogwarts is safe," he assured them.

The redhead chuckled spitefully. "But, how can that be?" she whispered to no one in particular.

 _How could that be_ , she thought, _when everything around her was falling apart._


	2. Chapter 1

_The loveliest things always die first._

* * *

 _The loveliest things always die first._

Lily thought that if she believed that enough, it would make the ache subside.

The truth was, she'd lost her best friend and shagged a boy she met on the train. She was sixteen and full of youth and fervor and hope. But, she'd learned that youth wasn't everything that adults said it was. Fervor had made her exhausted. And hope? It had only left her disappointed.

Lily looked out the window, fingers pressed up against the glass as if she'd been reaching for something, but had lost the thought. She could see her red hair in the reflection of the glass just as well as she could see the blonde frowning at her from the seat beside her. "Marlene, I'm fine," she promised unconvincingly. She couldn't even convince herself.

"You're not," countered Marlene. She looked ever the same, except for a few more freckles that must have cropped up under the summer sun. Marlene's frown deepened. "You're different, Lily," she continued, searching her friend's muted green eyes. "What happened to you?"

Lily swung her feet onto the bench and hugged her knees to her chest. "I grew up," she began with a sigh, looking around their barren cabin. She wondered where her other friends had escaped to. "I realized that life's not all daisies and picket fences and perfect gentlemen."

"What happened to Lily-brand optimism?" pressed Marlene with the beginnings of a smile. Her eyes pleaded for normalcy, for a return to how things once were.

The redhead's fists balled as she stared at her friend. It occurred to her that she would never understand, that trying to explain what she was feeling was futile. "I threw it out. I sold it because it wasn't selling. Optimism doesn't sell when people are dying for things they can't control and your sister hates you and your parents don't have a pot to piss in!"

Silence fell over their cabin. Marlene fiddled with a loose piece of thread at the hem of her skirt. "I'm sorry," she whispered, eventually. Lily, who had once again turned to the window, met her gaze through the reflection on the window.

"It's okay,"

"Everything's really shit, isn't it?" said Marlene.

And that it was.

The cabin door rattled open and a head of kinky hair popped in. "Is it safe to come in, then?" asked a smiling girl. She wrinkled her nose at Lily, adding, "I don't much like when you're in a sour mood." Her name was Dorcas Meadowes. Lily managed a laugh, turning to regard her friend properly.

"It's nice to see you, too," she said. Dorcas settled heavily into the seat beside Marlene, withdrawing a newspaper from behind her back as she did so. "What've you got there?"

With a ragged sigh, Dorcas tossed the _Prophet_ towards Lily. She scanned the front cover hastily. "'Two Muggles, One Muggle-born Dead After Tragic Accident,'" read Lily, glancing up at Dorcas and Marlene. " _Accident_? Is _that_ what they call murder these days?" growled the redhead, tossing the newspaper to the side. "I swear if _anyone_ in the _Daily Prophet_ could write a good article, it'd be a bloody miracle!"

Marlene grimaced. "My cousin reckons that _they've_ got their grubby hands on the printing presses, if you know what I mean," she said in a low whisper. "And if they've got that much, don't you think that the Min-"

Once again, the cabin door screeched open, this time to reveal another girl whose hair fell in dark ringlets down her shoulders and back. "Oh, lovely," she said, "I've found you lot."

"Don't play coy," laughed Marlene, "I heard you were shacking it up with some fifth year."

The brunette—whose name was Mary MacDonald, but was known by _many_ names—batted her lashes and sat softly on the edge of the seat beside Lily. She regarded all of the girls individually, commenting idly on Dorcas' hair ("You should really try Sleakeazy's, you know!"), Marlene's figure ("Did you try that slimming potion I gave you?"), and Lily's posture ("Sit up, dear, it's good for your back.")

Then, as if only then realizing what Marlene had said, she said: "I don't date Hogwarts boys."

Marlene let out a loud laugh. "That's rich, considering your reputation! What was it? Four boys in just as many weeks?" Mary looked positively accosted by this. She brushed dark ringlets of hair behind her shoulder and let out an exasperated sigh.

"Ladies, if my extensive experience in the relationship department has taught me anything, it's that boys our age are not worth the trouble," explained Mary, all the while examining her manicured nails. Her mother owned a salon in Brighton, so she always returned from break with a fresh manicure. The three Gryffindors gave the brunette a skeptical look, which she ignored. "Plus," she added eventually, "I met the most wonderful bloke over holiday. He works at the ice cream parlor in Diagon Alley—you know, Alice's folks' place—and he's a _dream_."

Dorcas leaned forward. "Oh, I met him. Brent, was it? Or some Muggle name of that brand...Bradly?"

"Brady," Mary supplied proudly. "He's a half-blood."

Lily's gaze flitted back out the window. She watched the trees and rollings hills swirl by in a blur. The sun sank below the lowest mountaintops, painting the entire landscape in shades of pink, orange, and purple. As it sunk lower, the cabin lights flickered on and Lily focused on her reflection. She felt inexplicably _different_ , just as Marlene had said. There was not anything outstandingly different about her, visibly—same red hair, same green eyes, same thin frame. But, often, she felt that half of herself was missing. She saw it in her eyes, mostly.

She could see—

" _Lily_ ," Mary roused her from her reverie. "Jesus, I knew you were a ditz, but this is getting ridiculous." The brunette jerked her head towards the cabin door, where the lanky frame of Remus Lupin stood, sheepish and barely grinning. She blinked up at him, then:

"Shit. Rounds?"

His grin spread. "Yes, unfortunately," he answered. Lily rose and ducked into the corridor, waving absently to her friends. Remus peered down at her—he was rather tall, actually—and Lily noticed a few more scars etched on his neck and collarbone. She wanted to ask if he was alright or if things had gotten worse at home. But, he looked away, and she figured it was better not to. "How was your holiday, then?"

Lily recalled her sister seething, her mother biting her nails as she flipped through the bills, and herself passed out upon the stoop. She settled on, "Okay," instead. Remus nodded. "And you?"

"Okay," he echoed, grinning down at her. "I spent a good deal of it at Ja—" The name seemed to catch in his throat. He spared a glance towards Lily, but she looked straight ahead and pretended not to have heard him. "Anyway, it was uneventful," said Remus finally. He, too, fixed his gaze upon the buzzing corridor ahead of them. Students ventured in and out of cabins, greeting their friends after weeks of absence. Lily stuffed her hands into the pockets of her robes, eyeing Remus, who still had yet to change. "A bit lazy, you see," he said, answering the question she hadn't bothered to ask.

The redhead let out a chuckle. "I expect more from you, Remus," she chided, smiling. "Is your mother feeling better, by the way? I know things were quite rough last term…"

He gave her a strange look. "My mother…?"

Lily blinked. "Perhaps I imagined it, then," she said quietly, though she was quite positive in herself. They continued on through the corridors unimpeded. Every so often, Lily opened her mouth as if to say something, but stopped. Much of it seemed too personal, even for someone she considered a close confidant. They settled on listless silence. Finally, she said, "It's good to be back, huh?"

"You're telling me,"

They weren't talking, Lily realized. Not _really_ , anyway. Not in the way that they used to talk. Not like the times when the sun had set over the castle and they walked aimlessly, their path lit by torch, and Lily would rant about her sister, gush about the boy she was seeing, or share the joke Dorcas had told her that morning. They weren't talking like they always had. Lily hadn't realized how dearly she missed her friend, Remus Lupin, until she realized that they had grown apart, too. Just as she had with what seemed like everyone else in her life.

A shiver ran down her spine. She looked up and felt dark eyes on her. No, rather, she felt dark eyes _digging_ into her like a smooth blade. Lily turned to look at Remus, and found that he, too, had noticed the change. His fingers wrapped around her forearm securely. "Alright, Snape?" he said coolly, and the gaze of the boy in question snapped towards Remus.

Snape made to reply, but the door in front of him slid open and a boy sauntered out. He looked down the corridor, towards Remus and Lily, and broke into a wide grin. "Evans!" he exclaimed, "A pleasure, as always." Her eyes remained rooted to somewhere just beyond the boy's head, but when he moved to the side to let a group of fourth years pass, she found that Severus Snape had disappeared entirely. "Now, Evans, you haven't forgotten about dear-old-me now, have you?"

"Unfortunately, no, Black," replied Lily thickly.

Sirius smiled and reached out to pinch the redhead's cheek affectionately. "Ah, yes," he crooned, "it's that undying joy that I missed the most about you." Lily sighed. Sirius Black was, after all, very much the same. She stared at the door of the cabin he'd emerged from apprehensively. _Surely,_ he's _not_ …

"Haven't seen Prongs since we boarded, 'fraid to say," said Sirius. "You're too easy to read, Ginger."

Lily rolled her eyes, turning to Remus. "I'll leave you here, then. Thanks for making rounds bearable, as always, Remus," she said, patting him on the shoulder. He nodded, and the two boys watched as she departed down the corridor.

"She's different," noted Sirius, strolling his way down the corridor.

Remus let out a puff of air. "No kidding," He followed shortly behind Sirius, who withdrew a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his trousers. As they neared the end of the train, Sirius pulled a cigarette from the package before tossing it towards his friend. "I don't smoke, Sirius," said Remus, examining the small box distastefully.

"I know that," drawled Sirius, "which is why I'm asking you to hold onto it. No one's going to check you for them, anyway." Remus sighed and pocketed the box, ducking through the doorway to the balcony at the end of the train. "Scram," Sirius barked at the underclassmen occupying the small space. They filed out with little more than a few choice words. "Kids these days," he remarked once they'd gone. Then, "Light me up, Moony, mate."

He scoffed. "I am not _enabling_ your addiction, Padfoot," said Remus indignantly. Sirius grumbled loudly, fumbling for his wand for a bit before finally lighting the tip of the cigarette. "Where is Prongs, by the way?"

"Hell if I know,"

Remus smiled. "What? Lover's quarrel?"

There was a pause as Sirius took a long drag. "No," he answered, blowing rings with the smoke, "Prongs is acting like a git, is all." Sirius propped the cigarette between his lips as he leaned against the railing. The wind whipped his hair—which now reached just below his ears—in all directions as he set his gaze upon the hills far behind them. "You know how he is," Sirius said after a long bout of silence, "he's got a million things on his mind, but no way to get them all out. Makes him a bit mad."

"Well, after last year…"

Sirius cut in, "Best not mention last year to him, actually."

The taller boy nodded. He stared wistfully at the passing scenery. Remus always enjoyed the train rides to Hogwarts. It felt like going home, more than anything else. He turned back to Sirius, who was starting to reach the end of his cigarette. It was a habit both James and Sirius had picked up over the summer. Remus thought it was a wretched coping mechanism, if anything. "How about you? Are you—I mean—are things alright with you?" He stumbled over his words, unsure of how to approach the subject.

"Alright? Nah. Prongs reckons I ought to talk about it more," He took a final drag before tossing the cigarette onto the tracks below, "but there isn't much to say. My mum beats me. Dad lets her. That's really all there is to it."

"Sirius—"

He shook his head. "I'm fine, Moony," he said, then smiled. "Really."

 **/ / /**

"And did you hear about Joyce, that slag, I can't even believe…" said Mary with a high-pitched laugh. Lily watched her with a mixture of bemusement and exasperation. Mary wasn't simply a gossip. She was _the_ gossip. Should anything secret spread across the entire school, there was never doubt that Mary MacDonald had been involved, in whatever way. She was deliberate, calculative, and on occasion, vindictive. "I mean, telling a guy you just met that you love him, can you imagine…"

They hoisted themselves into the carriage. Mary droned on. In past years, they had waited on Mary's gossip, all four of them curled up around Mary's bed as she perpetually left them all in suspense. Things had changed. Marlene was deep in thought, eyebrows drawn together. Dorcas seemed distracted, fingers twiddling with loose strings on the carriage cushion. And Lily didn't seem as if she was there at all, her eyes trained on Mary, but her mind somewhere else. But Mary spoke as if nothing had changed. She talked and talked and pretended that she didn't realize that no one was listening.

Eventually, she grew tired and trained her gaze on the castle, emerging from among the treetops. "Look," she whispered, afraid that she would be ignored once again. But, one by one, each of the girls followed her pointer finger to the warm marble figure of Hogwarts. They took in each turret and arch and trestle like a breath of fresh air. The four Gryffindors greeted their home as they always did—mouths agape in amazement. Because even after six years, there was something magnificent about the sprawling castle.

"Welcome home," Marlene breathed.

Lily leaned her head against Mary's shoulder. She thought that, for this moment, she could pretend that everything wasn't different. Mary smiled and slung her arm around Lily's shoulder. Marlene and Dorcas beamed at them. And, for a moment, it was normal. It was then that the carriage pulled gradually to a stop. Reluctantly, they stepped out of the carriage and onto the gravel below. Lily felt a hand slide into her own and fingers curl against the back of her hand.

Marlene met her eyes. "We'll make it through."

She couldn't will herself to let go of Marlene.

As they approached the doors to the Entrance Hall, she felt Dorcas beside her. She bit her lip. "D'you reckon that they'll talk about…" She trailed off, eyes following the frame of a petite blonde. Her hair was pin straight and pushed back by a prim blue headband. Dorcas sent her friends a significant look. Lily thought that she may have recognized the girl, but couldn't quite place her name. When the girl had passed them, Dorcas went on, "I haven't heard anything about it since last year."

"I'd rather not hear about it," said Mary, frowning, "A bit of a buzzkill, don't you think?"

Marlene cuffed Mary on the shoulder. "Don't be rude!"

She simply shrugged and turned to talk to a brunette boy. As the students filed in, Lily found herself looking for familiar faces. She thought she saw Remus' mousy hair further along in the throng of students, but couldn't be sure. Lily spotted a few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws that she'd had a class with the previous year. And, of course, there was the girl she'd tutored in Arithmancy and…

Lily felt something slam into her side. "Shit," came a deep voice. The voice felt eerily familiar. She looked into the face of a curly-haired brunette and held back a gasp. Lily felt as if she'd been dunked in ice water. She blinked up at the boy, who gave her an odd look. "I'm sorry," he said, finally, and turned to leave.

"Asher?"

The boy wrinkled his nose as he turned back around. "Ashton, actually. Asher's my brother. You knew him?" He had the same bright eyes as his brother. Lily shook herself from her stupor.

"Sorry? No, not really," she lied, rubbing the back of her neck. "Well, I better…" She gestured loosely towards the doors to the Great Hall. He nodded, still looking at Lily oddly. Lily caught up with Dorcas quickly, who hadn't really noticed her absence. _Ashton_. Lily shivered. The boy had looked so eerily like his brother that she was surprised that she hadn't confused them before. Her thoughts flew back to the year prior: her back pressed up against a window of the Hogwarts Express, needy lips tracing the outline of her neck, a hand sliding its way up the back of her blouse…

" _Lily_!" cried Mary. "You keep doing that, you know."

The redhead bit her lip. "Sorry," she said, glad for the distraction. Her cheeks felt hot. The crowd shuffled into the Great Hall and Lily felt herself being pulled in the direction of the Gryffindor table. The noise in the room was cacophonous, but just the same, the teachers at the Head Table seemed not to notice. Lily took her seat—or rather, was forced down into it—next to Marlene.

Dorcas frowned. "Dumbledore's missing," she observed. Lily looked up to his usual seat, and sure enough, the Headmaster was strangely absent. As this was never the case, several other students seemed to be equally concerned. The sorting commenced as always, and when the final first year had been sorted, the feast went into full swing. Still, Dumbledore had not made his entrance.

Lily stared at her plate for the greater part of the meal, afraid to look up and meet the wandering eyes of people she'd rather avoid. "He has to show up," growled Marlene suddenly. She slammed her hands on the table. "He can't be a coward about this. He can't. If he doesn't address what's going on, I just don't know what—"

The room silenced. Shimmering blue robes swirling around his feet, Albus Dumbledore made his entrance. Something felt odd about the Headmaster, but Lily couldn't quite place what it was. The student body watched as Dumbledore approached his podium. Murmurs broke out, one by one, across the hall. At last, as the Headmaster opened his mouth to speak, the students fell into a hush once more.

"Ah," he began, "there is much to say, but so little time, I'm told."

Professor McGonagall gave him a severe look behind his back.

"At the close of last year, as many of you know, a student of ours went missing," continued Dumbledore gravely. "I regret to inform you that all investigations into the disappearance of Miss Priscilla Goodwin have come up inconclusive." His gaze swept across the room. Lily could have sworn that he lingered on a few students in particular, but she wrote it off as her imagination as he went on. "In light of this chilling event, the Ministry—" His voice hung on the word as if it held a sour taste, "—has thought it wise to further ensure the protection of Hogwarts students. So, until further notice, there will be Aurors on patrol every night, along with our usual provisions of Prefects, Head students, and staff."

Dumbledore gestured to the back of the room, where several Aurors had entered. There was an unusual and highly uncharacteristic stiffness to the Headmaster. Lily could not be mistaken about what it was—Dumbledore was _angry_.

He waited patiently for the students' attention to return to him. "With staff in mind, I would like to welcome our newest professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, Mr. Willard Wydalcus," There was a pause as a man who looked too old to be allowed stood and gave a curt bow to the students. The students gave meek applause in response. The very corners of Dumbledore's lips twitched upwards. He drove on, "As usual, I have a few warnings…" Lily felt her attention wane. When his speech had come to a close, Dumbledore exited the room swiftly the way he had come. The Aurors followed him out without much commotion. And so the room descended into chaos.

" _Willard Wydalcus_?" screeched Dorcas. "There must've been a mistake!"

Mary raised her eyebrows. "Is there something I'm missing?"

Dorcas took a very deep breath, placed her hands calmly on the table, and looked at Mary squarely. "Do you read the _Prophet_?" Mary gave her a strangled look. "Perhaps not. Well, Willard Wydalcus—the old coot—writes the political column. He's a bloody nightmare!" Mary looked as lost as ever.

"He writes the most atrocious things in his column, to make a long story short," explained Marlene.

Lily looked at Mary. "He hates Muggleborns, in short."

" _What_?" Mary rose from her seat. "How could they let someone like that in here?"

"Well, first of all," Dorcas sighed, "he gets away with it by never explicitly saying Lily's words."

Sirius slid into the seat beside Marlene. "He's a real piece of work, that one. Shows up at all of my family's parties, y'know," he said around a mouthful of treacle tart. He snatched a pasty from Marlene's plate and gave them all a grim look. "Better stay on your toes from now on, ladies, looks like things just got more interesting here at Hogwarts."

They all looked up towards the Head table, where the subject of their conversation sat, sipping port wine. Marlene huffed. "Where've you been the whole feast, anyway?" she asked Sirius, nudging him to pull his attention away from a perky fifth year. He shrugged noncommittally.

"Around,"

Mary narrowed her eyes. "Either shagging some tart or fooling around with those other three dunces," Mary said in translation, glaring at Sirius.

Again, he shrugged. "Could have been both, who can say?"

That night, no one noticed the name missing from the student roster. No one noticed the girl slip out of the Great Hall, tears dripping down her cheeks. No one noticed the absence of four boys from the entire welcoming feast. Or, at the very least, no one questioned these things. For Hogwarts had changed, and for most students, Lily Evans included, there was nothing that could stop that.

In fact, there was nothing that could stop any of the events that followed.

* * *

 _A/N_ ; So, fun fact, I've been working on this story for a solid year or so. It's probably one of the most heavily plotted stories I've written in my life. I don't even plan my essays this thoroughly lmao. Now that I've said that, I'll look pretty awful if this turns out poorly. I really want to get it right because there's so much I wanted to address in this story. But, anyway, I'll be posting updates weekly, for a while. I can't guarantee that I'll follow through with that, though...But, anyway, I'd love any feedback! [SIGNED, SAM]


	3. Chapter 2

_She was gone; her memory was just as fleeting._

* * *

James remembered.

He fished around for a lonely cigarette at the bottom of his pockets. Finding one—half-smoked, but good enough—he lit the end hastily and stuck it between his lips. It wasn't relief. In fact, each drag felt more like sinking than anything else, but he couldn't stop himself now. That was, after all, how addiction worked. "Christ," he swore around the cigarette, tilting his head back to get a better look at the stars.

From where he was sitting—at the top of the Astronomy tower—he felt as if he could reach out and touch the tiny jewels strung up across the night sky. He laughed despite himself, feeling juvenile. James scratched the top of his head with his thumb and looked around. On any normal night, the Astronomy Tower was booked with desperate couples looking to get their rocks off.

Tonight, it was blissfully empty.

Tonight, James didn't want to think.

So, he watched the smoke curl out of his lips and tried to forget about everything. He wanted to forget the headlines and the pretty redhead and the girl that didn't return to Hogwarts this year. He rested his head upon the stone edifice of the observatory and watched the sky grow a dark, inky black. And he thought, then, that he enjoyed it up there. He welcomed the solitude.

But, the silence made it hard to forget. It was _her_. It was always her. He felt her in the walls, the corridors, even at the top of the Astronomy Tower—her presence lingered. Sometimes, James thought she existed at the very core of his being: snarling, screaming, red hair like a loud blaze. He couldn't forget her—never her. Even when she made it clear that that was precisely what she wanted, James couldn't help himself.

There was something about Lily Evans.

And, to be clear, James didn't pine. There was no heartache, no juvenile curiosity, no petty admiration. He felt, primarily, wonder. And confusion. For that was how she existed in his mind: Lily Evans remained an enthralling enigma, if ever there was one. And her red hair, her green eyes, her pale skin—each piece of her ate away at James like a nasty parasite. He was exhausted. He had spent far too much time thinking about Lily Evans, but he couldn't quite bring himself to stop.

James was obsessive. When his father took him out on a broom for the first time, he knew there was no going back. When he felt the subtle whir of a wand between his fingers, he knew there was no going back. And when Lily Evans flicked a tendril of brilliant red hair over her shoulder, her eyes filled with indignation, James knew that he was in trouble.

He finished off the cigarette and drove it into the flagstone floor with the heel of his shoe. Somewhere at the back of his mind, a nagging voice told him that he ought to have attended the welcoming feast. James ushered the thought away. How could he sit there and pretend that everything was normal?

He couldn't sit there, so close to her, and pretend like she didn't drive him absolutely mad.

He couldn't sit there and listen to the Headmaster drone out condolences.

He couldn't sit there and be treated like a child, once again.

James Potter was many things, but he was not a child. Not anymore. He ruffled his already untidy hair and stood, peering out across the Hogwarts grounds. He had the distinct urge to scream and yell until his voice disappeared for good. Maybe then he'd stop getting himself into trouble. His feet carried him to the edge, and he teetered there for a good while, eyes trained on the grassy hillside far below. "Planning on taking a dive, are we?"

"Nah," he answered, not missing a beat.

Sirius took the spot adjacent to him, resting his forearms on the railing. Remus stood on his opposite side and Peter beside him. "If you keep standing up here all alone, Prongs, people'll suspect you're up to something, y'know," said Sirius, a smile in his voice. He tossed a scuffed flask to James, who took a long swig from it before passing it to his left, where Remus stood. James laughed, finally, his throat feeling warm.

"Who says I'm not,"

Peter grinned. "There's our James."

James frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. "I've been a bloody git, eh?" None of the boys answered this. "It's just this place—" He gestured around, "—it gets to me."

"It's definitely different," Remus remarked, finally taking a long drink from the flask. He choked on the aftertaste, shoving the canister into Peter's chest. "Hell, Padfoot, what've you got in that?" The boy in question shrugged, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

"A mix,"

James apparently found that very funny, as he doubled over in laughter. "Mum'll kill you if she sees you've looted her cabinet," he gasped between bouts of laughter. Sirius grinned. Soon, the four boys fell silent, Peter passing the flask back to Sirius, who considered it for a long while. "She hates me," James murmured, sinking down into a seated position.

"Evans?" said Sirius. "Well, she can't hate you any more than that slimy git…"

He thought about that for a while and tried to feel reassured. It didn't work; it never did. They listened to the beat of wings overhead, the owls having emerged from the Owlery. James withdrew a piece of parchment from his trousers and thrust it towards Remus. "Take a look at this," he grunted, tapping the yellowed scrap against his friend's forearm. He took it, sparing James a confused look, and unfolded it. The edges were folded over and there were more than a few stains splattered across the page, but the writing on it remained intact.

"This is…"

"The report on Priscilla Goodwin," supplied James, taking the flask from Sirius and lifting it to his lips. "I nicked it from the Ministry when I visited my mum there over the summer," he said, then took a swift drink. "A pretty piece of information, that is there." Remus blinked down at it, scanning the words carefully. He glanced periodically towards James, who was transfixed on an unknown spot in the far distance. "What'd Dumbledore have to say, by the way?"

Sirius snorted. "Not much."

"I reckon they won't tell 'em anything," said Peter, who looked wearily down at the flask he'd been passed. "My mum says you can't trust the Ministry, anyway."

Remus looked up from the parchment. "I think you ought to get rid of this, Prongs," he said, holding the paper just out of his friends grasp. "If they ever find out that you stole this...do you know what'd happen to you and your family? Do you know what you having this looks like?" James stood, then, and snatched the paper back from Remus. He pocketed it quickly and gave his friend a severe look.

"I know," he snapped, "but I can't just...I want to look into things, a bit."

"Prongs—"

Sirius gave Remus a look that told him it was better to drop it. "I'll be careful," James said quietly. "I know what I'm getting into." They all remained quiet and looked up into the sky as if the stars held all of the answers to their many questions. "After all," continued James with a grin, "it's not like I haven't gotten myself into a couple of messes before."

Sirius and Peter laughed. Remus did, too, because even though they were sixteen, moments like these had become rare. And James knew what he was doing, Remus thought. James always knew what he was doing.

The four of them stayed there until they were drunk on mixed alcohol, youth, and a feeling that this was both the beginning and the end.

How right they were.

/ / /

Lily didn't want to remember.

As the last students escaped up to their dormitories, Lily nestled deeper into the plush couch before the fire. With a book propped up against her knee, her hair gathered into a ponytail, and the lull of the WNN in the background, Lily felt almost as if things were back to normal. She felt almost as if, for the very first time, she could pretend that nothing had gone wrong last June.

And then James Potter walked in.

His glasses were askew and his hair rumpled and his eyes a little bloodshot. And she realized that she would _never_ be able to pretend that that day had never happened. Lily felt the knot in her stomach tighten painfully. She blinked at the boy, who seemed blissfully unaware of her presence. Lily sunk deeper into her spot on the couch. For a fleeting moment, it seemed as if James Potter would bypass her presence entirely.

But, then, his eyes swept across the room and landed on Lily. She blinked up at him from her place on the couch but didn't say a word. Neither did James, for a long while. He stared at her a great deal, as if he wasn't quite sure that she was actually there, and then slumped into an armchair on the opposite side of the room.

"Priscilla Goodwin is still out there," he said after several agonizing minutes.

Whatever Lily had expected James to say, it wasn't that.

She felt a tear slip down her cheek. How was she supposed to be awful to him when he wasn't being awful to her? She wanted to scream. She wanted to yell until her throat burned and the knot in her stomach uncoiled. But, James Potter was sitting there, too intoxicated to see straight, and talking to her about a girl that had gone missing months ago. And she couldn't—even though she so desperately wanted to—be angry with him.

Because, she realized, it wasn't his fault.

Lily choked on her sobs, but James was too drunk to notice. She had spent months hating him. She had anticipated the moment that they'd come face-to-face. She had been patient because she thought, after so many months of loathing herself and everything around her, that telling off James Potter would clear things up for her.

But, here he was, and she could do no such thing.

Because, she realized in desperate succession: Severus Snape hadn't betrayed her because of James Potter. Severus Snape had betrayed her because that's what men like him do. Severus Snape had betrayed her because he had toed the line between good and evil for years, and the latter had finally won him over. Severus Snape had betrayed her because, to him, long-held ideals were more important than his best friend of nearly seven years.

Severus Snape had betrayed her.

Not James Potter.

"D'you hate me, Evans?"

Lily blinked. She wiped tears from her cheeks hastily and gave a great sniffle. For a while, she just looked at James. His eyes were out of focus. She knew he was too drunk to remember any of this. So, she took a deep breath and felt the knot loosen, ever so slightly. Lily rose from her seat and crossed the room, to the girls' dormitory staircase. She paused there and looked back at James, red hair falling out of the tie and into her eyes.

"No," she said. And she knew it was true.

/ / /

James Potter didn't remember how he had gotten back to the common room.

But, when he awoke the next morning, he had an ache in his neck, a terrible taste on his tongue, and his clothes smelled of cigarette smoke. "Shit," he grunted and rose from the chair, his legs feeling weak. He ascended the boy's dormitory staircase on shaky legs and locked himself in the bathroom adjacent to his dormitory.

His head throbbed dully, as if someone had taken a hammer and banged a few screws into the side of his skull. James let the shower run until his reflection was entirely obscured by steam. The water was scalding, but he didn't bother turning it down. It felt good—cleansing, he thought. When he stepped out, he knew he wasn't ready to face the day, but he returned to his dormitory and pulled on a fresh uniform despite that. His roommates hadn't fared much better, however, and only Remus seemed to have maintained any semblance of restraint the night before.

"Prongs, I can't," groaned Sirius. "I can't _do_ class today."

Peter poked his head out from beneath his covers. "This is your fault," he muttered ruefully in Sirius' direction, before disappearing once more. Remus fastened his tie a little tighter around his neck, checking himself in the mirror. James had noticed the appearance of a few more scars at the base of his friend's neck, but…

"Shall we?" Remus stared at him expectantly.

James nodded, "Yes." He clapped Sirius on the shoulder on his way out. He didn't expect to see either Sirius or Peter until the very end of breakfast, anyway. "Moony, do you reckon that McGonagall noticed that I wasn't at the feast last night?"

"I believe that _most_ people noticed that you weren't there last night," he replied. James didn't deny the possibility. He didn't consider himself to be outright popular so much so as "well-known." As it happened, getting in trouble enough made your name relatively commonplace around Hogwarts. It was by these means that many had begun to affectionately refer to the four Gryffindor boys as, "The Marauders." It was, in truth, a nickname that Professor McGonagall herself had coined.

Not that she'd ever admit to it, of course.

James hopped down the last couple of steps into the common room. It was, at this point, rather empty. There weren't very many early-risers in Gryffindor. He followed Remus to the portrait hole, which swung open at their approach, to reveal the thin frame of one Lily Evans. She smiled at Remus and then directed her attention to James, who she considered for a brief moment. Then:

"Good morning, Potter,"

Whatever James had expected Lily to say, it wasn't that.

He spluttered; Remus seemed equally as surprised. "Good morning, Evans," he replied evenly, after a moment. Lily looked at James expectantly and he stared right back. Finally, aggravated, she pushed him to the side and walked past. "Oh," James said in her wake.

The two boys stepped through the portrait hole, into the corridor. "What was that?"

"Hell if I know,"

They wandered down to the Great Hall, finding it nearly empty at such an early hour—it was, after all, only half past six in the morning. Remus took a seat across from James, who settled upon little more than a piece of buttered toast. "Did something happen last night?" asked Remus, ladling porridge into the bowl before him. James glanced up at the Head table, where Professor Dumbledore already sat. He nodded to James, eyes twinkling behind half-moon spectacles.

"No," he answered, having strained his memory. "I don't believe so." James glanced around the slowly filling room. At Ravenclaw table, students poured over books—quite unnecessary, James thought, considering classes had yet to begin. Meanwhile, at Hufflepuff, a young witch was looking around the room in absolute wonder. At Slytherin…

James diverted his eyes. He didn't trust himself, really. He was distracted from his thoughts by the presence of someone beside him. Expecting to see Sirius, he was surprised to find himself staring into the alarmingly bright eyes of a blonde haired witch. She beamed at him. "Hello, James, m'boy," she greeted, slinging an arm around his shoulder. "How might my favorite Quidditch Captain be on this fine day?"

"Why are you here, Alice?" James said instead. She frowned.

"Why not?" Alice Fortescue—the name of this odd witch—spun in her seat, grabbing a slice of toast and slathering it with a copious serving of jam. Then, around bites of toast, she revealed, "I'm here on Ministry business, you see." She blew her bangs out of her eyes. "They've got me stationed here to protect you lot," said Alice, adding as an afterthought, "By that I mean all Hogwarts students, not you in particular. Don't think you're that special, Potter."

He rolled his eyes. "Of course."

The blonde propped her head up on her hand and looked between Remus and James. "Do you not believe me? Look back there. See, there's Frank Longbottom. He's here, too. A real bore, that one. But, quick on his feet, he is." Alice said all of this quite fast—Alice said _everything_ rather fast, that is—and wrinkled her nose at the man standing at the very back of the Great Hall. He seemed to be frowning at Alice. James figured that eating with the students was not, exactly, protocol.

Remus smiled at her. "What've you been up to, anyway, Alice?" he asked finally.

Her smile dimmed considerably. "Oh," she said after a long pause, "this and that." She spared a furtive glance back at Frank Longbottom. Alice plowed through several more pieces of toast before she spoke again."God, I wish I could go back," She regarded James for a moment then cuffed him on the shoulder. "You don't know how lucky you are, kid." James frowned. Perhaps that wasn't what he had expected—or rather, wished—to hear. He wanted to be told that it was better out there, that there was something worth fighting for, that every day was a new adventure. But, instead, he received little more than a solemn grin. "Out there, it's live or die. No one's going to watch your back except you, and the sooner you learn that, the safer you'll be…"

James cleared his throat. "Better to fight than to be stuck here, waiting."

A knowing grin spread across Alice's face. "Yeah, we all think that," she said, "or _thought_ , anyway." She tossed the crust of her toast back onto the plate. "The thing is, all of this fighting—" She gestured around the room. "—seems oddly pointless when there are spells being cast at your back."

Alice looked intently at James.

"See, I was like you," she continued, her smile turning wry. "I wanted to stand beside the greats and fight for our world. What they don't tell you is that the 'greats' aren't out there fighting. They're holed up in their safe houses, protective charms up their ass, safe and sound. And us? We're the grunts, kid. We're the ones risking it all."

James looked at Remus.

"And the glory?" She let out a derisive laugh. "It's a scam."

James thought about this for a while. "Then, why do you still do it?" he asked finally. Alice blinked. She let out an embarrassed chuckle and rubbed the back of her neck.

"That's a good question, ki—"

" _Don't_ call me 'kid,'" he bit.

Alice rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah," She paused as she considered an answer. Eventually, she looked back at James and smiled. "Because of this," she said, looking around the room, "I want every kid to have this."

 _It was taken away from Priscilla Goodwin_ , thought James suddenly.

And that's why he couldn't let her memory fade.

Not yet.

* * *

 _A/N;_ I don't love-love this chapter, but I also don't dislike it enough to feel like I should change it. Just to give you all a bit of an update, I had up to Chapter 4 pre-written prior to posting this story. By the time this chapter goes up, I should have Chapter 5 all done and edited, as well. Chapter 6 _should_ be written, at least, but I'm a college student so don't get your hopes up. Update: I _have_ written Chapter 6 and I'm in the process of writing Chapter 7. I pre-wrote these chapters a while ago, which is good because I have finals coming up so I should NOT be writing fanfiction. But, I digress! How'd you like this chapter? If you have any comments or suggestions or otherwise, please do leave a review! And while you're at it, favorite and follow, as well! I _was_ planning to keep my updates on Mondays, but then I realized that I hate Mondays, so let's _not_ do that. So, I'll be updating on Saturdays or Sundays from now on. I don't have much else to say (except for lots of rambling), so I'll end this here. Thanks for reading! [SIGNED, SAM]


	4. Chapter 3

_For everything forgotten, there is something else we cannot forget._

* * *

 _What?_

Lily tossed the scrap of paper at Marlene's head. It hit her between the eyes and she glared at Lily. The redhead watched as she scribbled back a response, glancing up at Professor Flitwick, whose back was turned, before launching the ball of parchment back at Lily. She caught it just as Flitwick had begun to turn and Lily shoved the ball into the pocket of her robes.

Finally, as he returned to the chalkboard, Lily retrieved the parchment from her pocket and opened it. Marlene's messy handwriting appeared to have become worse over the summer. Still, she read, _What gives? It's been nearly a week and you haven't snapped at James once!_

She snorted. _Being angry gives you wrinkles_ , Lily wrote back and tossed the parchment back to Marlene. A second later, Flitwick whipped around, having heard Marlene release a loud guffaw of laughter. "My, Ms. McKinnon, I wasn't aware that the _Baubillious_ charm was so amusing!" he announced in his tinkling voice. Marlene smiled carefully back at him.

"Oh, certainly, Professor," said Marlene, "Charms is my most _thrilling_ class, you know!"

Lily heard a hoot of laughter from beside her and grinned over at Dorcas, who had hidden her face in her hands. Flitwick, displeased, gave Marlene a rather sour look before continuing the lesson. From the corner of her eye, Lily could see Marlene glaring at her.

"' _Being angry gives you wrinkles,_ '" growled Marlene as she sidled up to Lily after class. "Really, Lily Evans, _really_?" Lily shrugged innocently, casting a sly smile towards her friends. "Flitwick nearly had my ass, you know!"

Mary joined them not a second later, adding, "I would surely hope not!"

Dorcas fell into step beside them, elbowing Marlene suggestively. "You and Flitwick, eh? Would make a pretty fine couple, the two of you would." The blonde gave a rather dramatic retch and glared at her friends.

"Oh, bugger off!" she said, scowling. "Anyway, it wouldn't have happened if _Lily_ hadn't avoided my question." The change of subject had successfully garnered the attention of both Dorcas and Mary, as the two perked up quite a bit, looking between Marlene and Lily.

Lily rolled her eyes. "You're making a big deal out of nothing…"

The four of them edged around a group of meddling third years, whom Lily sent a disapproving glance. "This must be about James," began Mary, "you know, _everyone's_ talking about it…'Course, _some_ people are absolutely mad and say the two of you've shagged. Now, _I_ said that there was no way, but _Perpetua_ —you know, that seventh year from Hufflepuff—she _insisted_ that she'd seen the two of you snogging…"

"That is so ludicrous," fumed Lily, "that it doesn't even deserve a response."

Marlene laughed. "That's what I said, but then I was thinking about how _yesterday_ I saw you greet James in the hall—" She said this as if it was the most preposterous thing in the world, "—and I figured, well, if Bertram Aubrey's head can still manage to get bigger, then _surely_ you and James could have a good shag."

By that point, they had rounded the corner and reached the staircase into the Entrance Hall. It was always chaos at this time of day, and that Friday was no exception. Kids of all ages milled about in groups of two, three, and four, chatting about this-and-that. Most of them were thrilled to have finally reached the last day of classes for that week, others complained about all of the work that had already been assigned. It all felt very normal, Lily realized. On days like this, it felt like nothing had changed at all.

Lily wrinkled her nose. "I assure you," she continued, "I _have_ never and _will_ never shag James Potter."

"A little harsh, Evans," replied a voice from just behind her. She felt a flush creep up her neck as the boy-in-question strolled past, followed by Sirius, Remus (who waved cordially at her), and Peter. Lily grimaced, staring after James as he trotted down the staircase, the remnants of a smile still plastered across his face.

"See," shouted Marlene, pointing an accusatory finger at Lily. "That's. Not. Normal!"

Dorcas, who had withdrawn a magazine from her bag, looked up from the passage she'd been reading to examine Lily. "She's right," she sighed, glancing bemusedly at a triumphant Marlene. "Last year, a comment like that would've set you off."

"I've chilled out?" Lily tried.

"Yeah, right," chorused the three girls.

Finally, she shrugged. "Look, it's just…it's not worth it, alright? It's exhausting being so angry." This answer seemed to have satisfied them for the time being; Dorcas returned to her article, Marlene and Mary launched into a conversation about the previously mentioned Perpetua Ryan, and Lily let out a tight sigh. It wasn't false, either. She _was_ too tired to keep fighting with James.

Over lunch, Marlene consulted Lily about the _Baubillious_ charm, the lecture for which she had almost entirely ignored. "I'm not _like_ you, Lily," she whined, "I can't concentrate when Flitwick drones on like that." She muttered the pronunciation around mouthfuls of potatoes and roast chicken. Eventually, Mary leaned over the table to wipe a dribble of gravy from Marlene's chin, muttering about how gluttony is a sin. "It's just that—" she began between bites, "—my mum's an _awful_ cook, y'know? God, I nearly starved over holiday!"

"Not that you couldn't use it," sighed the languid form of Perpetua Ryan as she passed.

"Oh, fuck off, you royal—" snapped Marlene, stopping as Professor McGonagall entered the hall. She grumbled curses as Perpetua slid into a seat at Hufflepuff table.

Dorcas set aside her magazine and turned, frowning, to the boy beside her. "I don't know what you see in her," said Dorcas, and the boy—who was Sirius Black, in fact—turned to regard her. He shrugged noncommittally.

"The shagging is immaculate,"

"God, Sirius, have some class!" cried Mary.

He laughed loudly. "You're one to talk, MacDonald!"

They continued on in that vein for a while before turning to the more aggressive topic of Quidditch. "Puddlemere is crap," scoffed Marlene, examining the remnants of the electric blue veneer on her fingers. James looked up, then, utterly accosted. "Oh, don't give me that look, Potter. They haven't had an impressive run since '73, and even _that_ was pure luck."

"Yeah, but they _do_ have that new hopeful—gah, what's his name? O'Leary?"

"O'Malley," corrected James, leaning forward in his seat. He looked like an excitable child. "And he's a bloody good Keeper. The Cannons couldn't get a _Snitch_ passed O'Malley if they tried."

Lily could hardly keep up. She was, like most of her classmates, a fan of Quidditch only as far as House pride went. She attended Gryffindor matches, and on occasion, visited other matches. But Quidditch was a sport that Lily had never truly grasped. Granted, Lily had never truly grasped _any_ sport, Muggle or otherwise. So, tiring of a conversation she didn't entirely understand, Lily excused herself from the table and made her way to the Entrance Hall.

The truth was, her friends had far exaggerated her blossoming relationship, if it could even be called that, with James. Any conversation that they _had_ had left something to be desired. On one occasion, they'd briefly discussed the new Defense teacher ("He's a real piece of work, that one," said James), but even that conversation was nothing to gawk at. Regardless, Lily didn't think that their interactions were so strange. Lily and James had had their fair share of pleasant conversations over the years. There weren't many that Lily could think of off the top of her head, but...

"Ouch,"

Her bag fell to the floor with a dull thud. "Shit," whined Lily, bending down to gather the papers that had slid out. She watched the person before her get to their knees and pick up several of her papers.

"Lily Evans," the person read off of one page. Lily finally looked up. She stared into a face that felt so familiar, but that she knew was different. "We keep meeting like this," Ashton Kipling laughed, the skin at his eyes wrinkling with his smile. He handed the papers back to Lily, who took them with a meek smile.

Ashton rose to his feet, making to leave.

"Ashton?" Lily said suddenly, rising. "I, uh, well—it's nice to meet you."

He grinned down at his shoes. "Other than the knocking into you bit," he said, "yeah, it was nice meeting you too, Lily Evans." The way he said her name sent pleasant shivers down her spine, the very same that his brother had always given her. Of course, with Asher, sometimes it only took a passing glance to drive her mad. Lily was stuck between loathing and loving the feeling. The Kipling brothers were like stepping into an icy pool—positively shocking.

Lily couldn't help but smile the rest of the way to the library. It was just one of those days: the kind where she could smile at absolutely nothing. Those days had become increasingly rare, it seemed. She felt her smile dim but shook away the thoughts easing their way back into her mind. _No,_ she thought, _not now._

And she carried on.

/ / /

"Bertram Aubrey has balls the size of Doxy eggs," growled Mary.

A large-headed blonde boy turned around and sneered at her. Marlene erupted into giggles. "Head's looking _fabulous_ today, Bertram!" she called, amidst giggles, "Really, a lot smaller than normal." He sent her a rude gesture before shuffling off with his friends, who looked equally disgruntled. When in second year, Bertram Aubrey informed Mary that she was "dumber than a blast-ended skrewt," he'd earned a personal vendetta from all of the Gryffindors.

Even Remus, who was chuckling behind them at the moment, had joined in on the fun of torturing Bertram Aubrey every so often. "God, I can't stand that kid," he groaned then, " _no one_ has the right to act that pompous and get away with it."

"Luckily," said Peter, "he rarely gets away with it. With you lot around, anyway."

"I _do_ wonder if his head could get any bigger," voiced James, picking a firecracker out of the hand of a younger student. While the others debated this, James fiddled with the tiny firecracker, finally electing to set it off. It seared between his fingertips for a moment before rocketing off across the crowded corridor. A bushy-haired girl screeched, brushing sparks out of her hair. The red-hot object whizzed through the air, emitting a high-pitched scream, until, at last, it landed in the robe of an unsuspecting student. The student let out a howl, hopping about the corridor. Onlookers burst into laughter, James and company among them.

His friends having put out the flaming object, the student wheeled around, looking for the culprit. James recognized the curly-haired boy as a seventh year Slytherin who went only by his last name—Mulciber. His eyes narrowed on James. " _You_."

"Me?" said James innocently.

Mulciber scanned the grouping of Gryffindors. His eyes landed on the petite form of Mary MacDonald, who was shaking much like a leaf in the wind. Marlene wrapped a protective arm around her. "It was just a joke," Marlene snapped, a daring look in her eye. Mulciber took a threatening step forward; Mary cowered. Mary _did_ _not_ cower. Passing students stopped to watch the altercation, curious eyes darting between the opposing sides—Gryffindor and Slytherin, a feud as old as Hogwarts itself.

"A joke?" He smiled wickedly. "Yes, like the one that was pulled on your dear friend there?"

Peter scowled. "A-A joke? She was—she was tortured!"

The crowd gasped. Mary sunk a little further into Marlene, as if seeking to disappear entirely. Not once did she dare to meet Mulciber's eyes. His posse of Slytherins had sidled forward, unseen hands undoubtedly grasping their wands. Dorcas' hand instinctively clutched her own wand—made of gnarled mahogany and unicorn hair—as Remus and Peter did the same. Altercations like these were not entirely uncommon; that didn't mean that they weren't gruesome.

James felt Sirius stiffen beside him. "Regulus," he whispered, and an eerily familiar pair of grey eyes looked up. Regulus Black looked like a copy of Sirius, in many ways. He shared the same stormy eyes and dark hair that characterized most of the Black family. They were similar in height, perhaps Sirius was slightly taller, but not by any large margin. Even their straight backs, broad shoulders, and high cheekbones were the same. In fact, only Regulus' hair, cut tidily, gave any indication that the two were not identical.

Sirius pushed a lock of his own long, wavy hair out of his face. He stepped forward. "Don't," James warned, grabbing his forearm. But, as always, there was little that could be done to stop Sirius once he had his mind set. So, he pried James' fingers off of him and strode towards Regulus, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. The Slytherins, surrounding him, grew tense and restless. Regulus released a thin laugh.

"You _were_ always one for violence," he said. Sirius' eyes flashed dangerously. "Really, we were all a bit surprised when you weren't put into Slytherin." Regulus' gaze darted to somewhere beyond: Mary. "But, no, you like consorting with the _filthy_ far too much…"

"You disrespectful piece of _shit_ ," Sirius roared, his fist colliding with Regulus' jaw. The younger Black stumbled backward, releasing a high laugh. He spat blood from his mouth before turning back to his brother. "You're a spoiled brat, Regulus. You think that a family tree makes you clean? Bullshit. You're the filthiest of the _lot_!"

Regulus launched himself onto Sirius, knocking the two of them to the floor. They scuffled on the ground, fists flailing and boots scuffing the marble floor. James paced, rubbing his temples. He knew it wasn't his place to get involved. He watched Sirius take a heel to the cheek and winced. But, before he could think to help Sirius, he was distracted by a burly Slytherin approaching him. "What does your mother feed you," gasped James, ducking under the boy's fist.

"What would you know about our family tree?" spat Regulus over the roar of the crowd. "You stopped being _my_ brother the moment you left!"

Sirius paused, blocking Regulus' incoming knee with his forearm. " _Fuck you_."

"Shit, guess this is happening," said Marlene. She stuck her wand behind her ear and crossed her arms, watching the tussle with escalating interest. Finally, she screamed, "Don't just curl up into a ball, Peter, fight like you mean it!"

Dorcas clenched her wand. "Should we help them?"

They watched James take a severe blow to the gut. "Nah," Mary and Marlene chorused.

"Should we stop them?" Dorcas pressed.

They watched Remus elbow Terence Nott in the nose. "Nah," Mary and Marlene reiterated.

James didn't know how long they had been fighting for. Nor did he notice the crowd amassing around them. He did, however, feel the ache in his ribs and the screaming of his lungs. It was time to let this go, James realized. None of them could continue to fight for much longer, and it wouldn't be long until a teacher found them. Or worse, James realized, what if…

" _Ahem_ ," cut in a sharp voice. The cacophony of the crowd dimmed to a lull. James glanced to his left, where just beside him, a pretty redhead stood with her arms crossed, scowling. " _What_ is going on here?"

"We're having a spot of tea, Evans," said Sirius smartly. She glared at him.

It was then that the burly Slytherin went barreling into James, toppling him over. Annoyed, Lily flicked her wand and sent the Slytherin across the hall. She then turned to James, who stared up at her innocently. "Honestly, James," she muttered, "I thought you were _over_ this funny business." She extended her hand down to him, helping him into a standing position.

At that point, Alice and Frank burst through the crowd. James felt Alice's glare on the back of his neck as she helped the Slytherin boy beside Remus. Frank pulled apart Sirius and Regulus, still kicking and screaming, and held tightly to their collars, directing them down the hall. Alice rounded up the rest of them, kicking James' backside as he passed her, and marched them down the hall.

And with that, the crowd dispersed and the murmurs began.

Marlene looked at Lily, who stood in the same spot, positively fuming. "I cannot _believe_ him," she went off as her friends approached. "I mean, I honestly thought that he'd _changed_. But, here he is, fighting with those Slytherin gits as if this is fourth year. I _knew_ it was too soon to expect anything."

"In their defense…" started Dorcas.

Lily scowled. "There is no defense! They shouldn't have fought. End of story."

"Aren't you being a little harsh?" said Mary.

The redhead sighed, sticking her hands into the pockets of her robes. "That's the issue! I can't be critical of James without people painting me as the enemy. I can't be disappointed in him without people saying that I've set my expectations too high. He's better than he acts. He's just…" she said, ending off her tirade with a frustrated grumble. She hadn't expected to become involved in such a mess so soon after leaving the library. That said, she realized bitterly that she shouldn't have expected less. The three girls stared at her, mumbling to herself, chewing on her bottom lip, barely paying attention to her surroundings. L

They left her beside the entrance to the dungeons, still grumbling, lost in thought. Lily stomped down the cold passageways, which held the thick smell of mildew and something else Lily had never been able to place. At the very end of the passageway, she reached the Potions classroom, the door of which was propped open, a trail of steam bubbling out of the room. "Good afternoon, Professor," Lily said absently as she walked in. Professor Horace Slughorn looked up from a peculiar stone he'd been examining to smile at her.

"Yes, hello, Miss Evans," he greeted, sounding delighted. Lily took her seat, in the middle row, and sorted through her bag for her papers. "How did you find the essay I assigned on Baruffio's Brain Elixir?"

Lily smiled knowingly. These were typical questions from Slughorn. "It was quite an easy assignment, sir," she said truthfully, "I hope you'll consider more challenging work next time."

This answer seemed to have pleased him. He pulled his pants up a bit higher over his pot-belly and smiled down at Lily, winking. "I didn't want to overwhelm any of the other students, you see," Slughorn explained lowly, "only a few of my students are as bright as you and Mr. Snape." At the mention of Severus Snape, Lily recoiled slightly. With a bow of his head, Slughorn returned to his desk at the front of the room and nodded to the other students as they entered.

After a while, it became apparent that James, Sirius, and Remus, who also took this class, would not be showing up. Lily placed her bag on the chair beside her, which Remus usually occupied, and sighed. It seemed that the Marauders, for the first time that year, had gotten themselves thoroughly into trouble.

They were lectured on the effects of Garrotting Gas, which causes choking and possible suffocation to those who inhale it, for the entirety of class that day. The feeling of dark, angry, piercing eyes on the back of her neck made paying attention rather difficult. Nonetheless, Lily wrote neat, detailed notes, and her perceived interest seemed to please Slughorn even further.

At the close of class, Lily packed up her things quickly but was stopped by Slughorn. He smiled at her and began to discuss the details of Garrotting Gas further, noting that she seemed to have an interest in it. "I'm sorry, sir," Lily cut in, eventually, "but I really must go, I've to see to something…"

"Well, of course," said Slughorn, appearing disappointed, "off you go, then!"

Lily rushed from the class, nearly knocking into someone on her way out. "Sorry," she muttered and continued on her way.

"Is that it, then, Lily? Will you just pretend that I don't exist?"

She stopped in her tracks but did not dare to turn around. Lily's knuckles were white around the strap of her bag. "I have nothing to say to you," she said coldly and made to leave.

Cold fingers met her wrist, holding her in place. "Let's talk," he said quietly, and Lily finally met his eyes. They were darker than she remembered, his skin a bit paler, but he was still the same boy she'd cast off the year prior. Severus Snape looked entirely the same: prominent nose, strong jaw, and feeble frame. He towered over her now, having grown quite a few inches since the last time she'd seen him. "If you'd just give me a minute…"

"I won't," Lily said. "I won't. That's 'will not.' I have no intention of speaking to you again, Severus. I thought I made that achingly clear last year?" He flinched. "And anyway," Lily went on sharply, "what could you possibly say to a _mudblood_?"

With that, his fingers slid from her wrist and Lily turned towards the faint light at the end of the passageway. "You'd rather consort with your _precious_ Potter than me, is that it?" he yelled after her. Lily did not deign this outburst with a response. She shouldered her bag a little higher and followed the light upwards, until at last, she emerged into the well-lit Entrance Hall.

Lily released a breath of air.

Desperate, she drew her attention elsewhere. It occurred to her during Potions that the Marauders were, most likely, in the Hospital Wing. After all, none of them had been in the best shape at the conclusion of the fight. So, on a mission, Lily made her way there. "Madame Pomfrey," she began as the door to the Hospital Wing clicked open, "I know how you feel about visitors, but there's someone I need to bitch out about being reckless."

The door slid open. "Ten minutes," snapped Pomfrey, disappearing into her office in the far corner.

"Traitor," James muttered loudly as Pomfrey passed, glancing nervously at Lily as she approached. The redhead folded her arms over her chest, examining the four boys, who had all gathered around James' cot, with a look of pure derision. "Look, Evans—"

Lily narrowed her eyes and James' mouth snapped shut. "Being angry gives you wrinkles," Lily said calmly. She was met with four strange looks. "So," Lily continued slowly, "I'm not going to get angry." The boys breathed a simultaneous sigh of relief. "But," Lily cut in, frowning, "if you put _one_ toe out of line and I catch you, just know that the consequences will be _severe._ Am I understood?"

"Yes, M'am," squeaked Peter.

She sent a hard look towards James. " _Is that clear, James Potter?_ "

The boy in question frowned. "Mulciber went after Mary," he said defiantly. "Otherwise, I would have let it go. I mean, it's not like I _enjoy_ this stretch of the castle." He gestured around the room.

"Well," said Lily, faltering. "My stance remains the same. I want a quiet year. No funny business."

Sirius snorted. "Quiet? At Hogwarts?"

/ / /

They were released from the Hospital Wing an hour later, with orders from Madame Pomfrey to keep out of trouble. Lily had left far before then, citing that she wanted to meet her friends before supper. Sirius eyed James skeptically. "Lily Evans comes to the Hospital Wing to see us: weird. Lily Evans _doesn't_ hex you at first sight: weird. Lily Evans doesn't get angry at all: _outrageous_. Prongs, what's going on?" demanded Sirius, an eyebrow cocked.

"I told you before, it seems we've agreed to start anew," explained James offhandedly, digging into his pocket and withdrawing the familiar Snitch he carried about. "You act like Lily hated me."

"She did," the three boys reminded him.

James smiled. "Well, she doesn't anymore," he said, pausing, "which works out perfectly, you see. I need to talk to her." There was no way of getting around it: James could not stop thinking about Priscilla Goodwin. Naturally, it had plagued him throughout the summer. But, then, there had been other distractions. Now that James was back to the scene of the crime, he couldn't help but feel her presence everywhere. And mostly he wondered why it didn't seem to bother anyone else. Even Lily, it appeared, didn't seem the least bit perplexed by the disappearance of Priscilla Goodwin.

"I'm starved," announced Remus, slinging an arm around Peter's shoulder. "I'm sure you can find Evans in the Great Hall."

With that, they set off in that direction, chatting idly about this-and-that. It had been an entirely normal day—or week, for that matter—so there wasn't much to discuss. Sirius had made it clear that Regulus was off the table as far as topics go. That left the four boys to discuss their classes. They shared most of their classes, save for a few exceptions. Peter had opted not to take Potions, Remus had signed up for Arithmancy instead of Ancient Runes, and Sirius hadn't taken Divination. But, for the most part, their schedules were quite similar, which made conversing about classes especially dry.

"Oh, that's rough," groaned Marlene as Sirius took the seat beside her. "What will poor, pitiful Perpetua do with a face like that?"

"Snog my lights out, I assume," replied Sirius in turn.

Dorcas smiled, adding, "I didn't realize they were ever on!"

There was a pause in conversation as James took a seat beside Lily, who inched over to give him more room. But, soon, their friends had moved past the oddity of the seating arrangements and launched into new topics. "It's so nice that we can all sit together this year," Mary said after a while, looking around at everyone. There was a murmur of agreement. As Peter went on to talk about his mom, who worked as a bartender at a wizarding pub, Lily looked at James, who had leaned in closer.

"I might not hate you," she said, "but we're certainly not close enough to be sitting so close."

James rolled his eyes. "Don't be dramatic, Evans, I needed to talk to you," She gave him a sour look and he went on, "I've been thinking about it a lot, and being as smart as you are—no, Evans, I'm not trying to butter you up—I thought you could give me some insight in to something I've been very curious about lately."

Lily watched James over her pumpkin juice. "And what might that be, Potter?"

"The disappearance of Priscilla Goodwin,"

"Jesus, Potter!" she whispered frantically, setting her goblet down. "That's not something you should be poking around about, you know that as well as I do." This seemed to encourage James as he leaned forward, eyes wide.

"So, you think it's sketchy, too!"

Lily pushed him back, her green eyes watching him contemptuously. "No!" she whispered shortly, "I'm just smart enough to know that you shouldn't get involved in an ongoing investigation." She ladled greens onto her plate before looking back towards James. "Oh, don't look at me like that, Potter. I'm being honest. You shouldn't get involved."

"Well, what do you think about the disappearance, anyway?"

The redhead let out a long, exasperated sigh. She placed her fork down and turned to James, so as to consider him more directly. "If you _must_ know, I don't think that girl could be alive," said Lily slowly. "I mean, let's say she escaped into the Forbidden Forest, yeah? People don't _last_ in there. They just don't. Especially not thirteen-year-old girls." James didn't seem to like this answer, as he opened his mouth to voice a retort, but was cut off by Mary, who had chosen then to ask a question:

"So, James, when are Quidditch tryouts?"

James tousled his hair. "In two weeks, I suspect. Somehow, the Pitch is absolutely booked until then," James was clearly bitter over this, as he scowled over at the Hufflepuff table, presumably the culprits. "I suppose they're looking for a shot at the Cup," he continued, "now that Ravenclaw hasn't got a chance in the world."

"Hufflepuff? The only way they'd have a shot is if they let go of their God-awful Seeker," said Sirius, eyeing a boy who, even Lily could tell, was much too burly to be any good as a Seeker. Quidditch had become a commonplace topic in the last week, Lily realized. Of course, that was only natural, considering that _four_ of the people in their group happened to be on the Gryffindor team. There was James, Chaser and Captain; Dorcas, Chaser; Sirius, Beater; and Mary, Seeker. Marlene, while not on the team, was perhaps their most dedicated fan. She also had a habit of dating Quidditch players. _They're all rotten,_ Marlene once said, _but they're bloody hot_.

Curious, Lily piped up, "Who's the first match between?"

As if only then noticing her presence, they all blinked at her. "Ravenclaw and Slytherin," answered Remus, finally. Lily didn't know much about either team, apart from what she'd seen in past years and what her friends had talked about in the past week. For instance, Lily knew (due to a recent discussion) that Ravenclaw was a rubbish team. Slytherin, on the other hand, Lily _knew_ was a difficult team from past experience. Eventually, Remus added, "It'll be Hufflepuff and Gryffindor after that."

"Ravenclaw won't be much of a challenge for Slytherin," said Marlene, cheeks filled with food. "Not only did they lose their best players, but the whole house is in a bit of a state of turmoil."

Dorcas, who had moved on to reading a book by this point in the day, looked up to regard the Ravenclaw table. They did, in fact, appear far more solemn than in past years. "That's right," she said, "Priscilla was a Ravenclaw, wasn't she?"

"Yes," James answered, perhaps a bit too quickly.

Lily could feel his eyes boring into the side of her face. "I feel ruddy about the whole thing," sighed Mary. "How are they supposed to muster up the pep to cheer on their team when they've lost one of their own?" Lily busied herself with the food on her plate, pushing it back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

"Lost, yes," said James. "Not dead, lost."

The entire group looked at him oddly. "Alright, mate?" said Sirius.

"Right as rain,"

The conversation continued on in a different direction—"Did your mother even feed you, Marlene?"—and Lily gladly took the opportunity to ignore James. He was the bothersome type, Lily thought, like a bug bite that you can't help but scratch raw. He knew how to eat away at a person, that is. Sometimes, she felt his gaze on her, but when she turned, he'd be in conversation with Peter or Dorcas. It was an odd feeling. Not quite like feeling Snape's gaze on her neck, but not entirely different, either.

By the time supper had ended, James seemed to have lost interest. But, his question gnawed at Lily. _Well, what do you think about the disappearance, anyway?_ She hadn't thought much about it at all, in fact. Perhaps Lily was, at her core, quite self-absorbed. But, wasn't everyone? She'd been so preoccupied with the rest of her life that it was difficult to stop and think, ' _Hey, what about that girl I never spoke to and now will never be able to?'_ Priscilla Goodwin, Lily decided, was the least of her concerns. Plus, they had Aurors there for a reason, didn't they?

She accepted that as her rationale.

Or tried to, anyway.

/ / /

He could see her glancing at him over her shoulder.

A year ago, it would have made him giddy. But, now, it only made him scared. _What was Lily looking at?_ He rolled the Snitch between his fingertips, trying fruitlessly to concentrate on the textbook in front of him. Professor McGonagall had assigned nearly twenty pages of reading along with a set of twenty questions to match. Many thought McGonagall was a demon; James thought she was Lucifer himself. "Prongs, mate," grumbled Sirius, "you're getting bloody _annoying_ with that Snitch."

"Sorry," He pocketed the golden object, just as Lily sent another callous look over her shoulder. "D'you reckon I should go over there and talk to her?" James asked, eyeing Sirius. He looked over at Lily, back to James, and again to Lily. Then:

"Oi, Evans."

She jumped in her seat, surprised, and looked back stiffly. Sirius motioned her over. A moment later, Lily appeared with several sheets of paper, eyebrows raised. Lily seemed to be determined to ignore James entirely. "First," she said, "I have these for you. My notes from Potions. He just droned about choking gas, basically. Pass them on to Remus, would you? Second—" She spared a glance towards James, who wasn't paying attention, eyes on her notes, "what did you need?"

Sirius blinked up at her, barely awake. "Prongs wanted to talk to you, but he's too much of a—"

"Thank you, Sirius!" interrupted James loudly. He looked at Lily, who was looking determinedly down at his Transfiguration homework. "I was just wondering if you'd help me with Transfiguration, actually!"

Lily stared at him. "James, you're the best at Transfiguration in our year," she reminded him. She squinted down at his work, reading a familiar name. "Maybe if you stopped worrying about _Priscilla Goodwin_ , you wouldn't 'need my help.'" With that, Lily turned on her heel and marched back to her table, thoroughly mussed. "James Potter is a twat," she announced.

"Wow, did we return to Fifth Year?" exclaimed Marlene.

Mary grimaced. "God, I hope not. Horrible year for my brows, you know."

"Horrible year for you on multiple accounts," added Dorcas. Mary went rigid, glaring at Dorcas. There were some topics, among the girls, that were expressly off-limits. Fifth year, as it pertained to Mary, was one of those. "He's staring, you know," she said once Mary had returned to her work, which she was glaring just as fiercely at. Lily frowned.

"I don't care if James _Bloody_ Potter is staring—"

"No, not _him_ ," sighed Dorcas. "I'm talking about Jonah Nix." Jonah Nix was in his seventh year and a fit Gryffindor Chaser. And, in fact, one of Marlene's biggest draws towards Quidditch. She barely glanced up, however, which made even Mary regard her with a look of befuddlement.

Eventually, she looked up at them and rolled her eyes, setting down her quill. "It's called 'playing hard-to-get,' ladies," she informed them smartly, smirking at her own genius. Mary laughed.

"He has to know you exist for that to work,"

Marlene reddened. "He knows I exist!" she insisted, but Mary only laughed. "He does!"

Jonah Nix had not made any indication, over nearly four years, that he knew who Marlene McKinnon was. He had, at some point or another, conversed with Mary or Dorcas while Marlene was in the vicinity. But never, even during those chats, had Jonah acknowledged Marlene—who had pined over _him_ for more years than was necessary. Lily did not understand what she saw in him; Lily did not understand what girls saw in _most_ guys. Granted, she wasn't the best judge of character.

"I'm pathetic," Marlene sighed, eyes still trained on her beloved. "You know, over holiday, my sister had me read feminist manifestos. Really brilliant stuff, actually," Marlene whipped out pamphlets from between the pages of her textbook, handing them to each of her friends. "I think Sylvia Plath is extraordinary. She's an American muggle, you know. My sister tells me that they're called No-Majs in the States. Weird, huh? But, anyway, _feminism_. My sister has a completely different outlook on life now. She's all, 'Fuck men,' and what have you. Glorious, really. I'd like to be a feminist."

"I'm not entirely sure that that's the idea of feminism, but sure," said Lily, skimming the pamphlet.

The blonde groaned. "Oh, whatever."

Barely an hour had passed when Mary returned to the table—having gotten up earlier—to inform the three other girls that, "James has already finished Transfiguration!" Lily glanced over her shoulder. The bespectacled boy had placed his Transfiguration textbook aside, on top of which sat several sheets of parchment, and was explaining something to a third year. She scowled. It was unfair. Lily had been working on the homework for nearly twice as long and still had not finished. It simply did not seem logical that James Potter could _slack_ and still finish before everyone else.

"That name is banned," snapped Lily.

"Someone's not used to being second-best," singsonged a voice that Lily recognized as Remus. She rubbed her temples, eyes trained on the questions before her. McGonagall had been ruthless with assignments. She wanted to weed out the weak of heart, it seemed. "You know," said Remus, leaning against the table, "you _could_ just ask him for help."

"Certainly not!"

When the last band of third years climbed up the dormitory staircase, Lily released a sigh of relief. Pushing herself away from the table, she abandoned her belongings and settled heavily into the seat beside the fire with a sigh. For a while, she watched the sizzling and popping logs. She thought of home and the weathered lounger, sagging and torn, that used to belong to her father. Lily didn't frequently reminisce about the past. There were, however, some moments that felt so terribly nostalgic that she couldn't help but sink into her memories. She thought of her father, telling her stories around the barrel of his cigar, sunk deep into his seat. She thought of summers spent chasing after Petunia, the tall grass tickling her calves and the echoing sound of their mother calling them home.

Lily sniffled. "God, what am I doing?" she muttered, standing. Her papers mocked her, far too many questions left glaringly blank. The work itself wasn't hard. It was the concentration part that had stumped her. Perhaps it was because the year had just started. Or, more plausibly, it was her astonishment that _James Potter_ had been doing _work_ on a Friday. Lily shuddered. It was a truly disturbing sight. More disturbing, even, then the actual mountain of work that Professor McGonagall had assigned. The redhead jabbed her Transfiguration textbook with a quill.

Admittedly, she _should_ have asked James for help.

But, just the same, that wasn't an option.

Lily could just imagine the smug look on his face. " _Evans_!" he'd exclaim. " _You_? Need _my_ help?"

She stabbed the quill into her textbook. "I can do this," she whispered. "I can, I can, I can."

It was to be a _long_ night.

/ / /

Horrified.

Mortified.

 _Embarrassed_.

Lily flushed vermillion, gathering her things in a hurry. "Evans, were you... _sleeping_ down here?" asked Sirius. She could hear the laughter in his voice. Her face redder than her hair, Lily packed her things away and rushed up the dormitory stairs, several pairs of eyes following her receding form. She had fallen asleep in the common room.

It wasn't uncommon, as a whole. In fact, Lily had found her fair share of students sleeping on the plush couches ("My roommates are noisy," was the common excuse). But, Lily had _never_ done such a thing. Until then, of course. She burst into the sixth year girls' dormitory. Mary, seated at the vanity she'd arranged, turned around to smile at her. "'Morning, Princess," she chirped, patting rouge onto her cheeks. "Sleep well?"

"No," Lily snapped. "I slept at a table."

Dorcas peeked out from behind her bed curtains, bleary-eyed. "Why'd you do that?" she asked sleepily. Mary rolled her eyes and turned back to the vanity. Dorcas' hair was sticking up in every direction; Lily wasn't sure that her own hair was any better. She dropped her things atop her trunk and took a seat at the edge of her bed. Lily scratched her head, looking around.

"Where's Marlene?"

"Just missed her," replied Mary. "She went down ten minutes ago—kind of in a rush, really."

Lily nodded, working at the kink in her neck with her hand. "Remind me to _never_ do that again," she said, watching Mary dust powder over her face. "Is that powder new? It looks fancy." As if she had been waiting for this comment, Mary smiled at her in the reflection of the mirror.

" _Brady_ bought it for me," she said proudly, "It's from Macy's. You know, the _American_ store."

Mary seemed very proud of this as she flaunted the bird's egg blue packaging. "That's awfully nice of him," said Dorcas. She rose from her bed, stretched, and arranged her hair into a thick ponytail. "Is Macy's expensive?" she said with a yawn, approaching Mary to examine the powder. Dorcas came from a very old and very pure family. They were the nice sort, though, Dorcas always explained. _I do have an elitist uncle,_ she told them once, _but doesn't everyone?_ That said, Dorcas knew little about the Muggle world, outside of what she'd read about in books or learned in Muggle Studies.

"Oh, yes, _very_ ," replied Mary excitably. She tucked the powder into a leather case and set it aside. "Lily, you'd just _love_ Brady. He's a _doll_. Oh, and he's just the classiest guy…" Mary rambled on. Eventually, Lily pried herself away and made for the bathroom (Dorcas behind her). Inside, a few scattered girls were examining themselves in the mirror. Thick steam rose from the shower stalls, which were all filled. Lily sighed, feeling her stomach grumble angrily. It would be a long morning.

They did not make it down to breakfast, in fact, until nearly an hour later. And by that point, Dorcas was angry with Mary, who had delayed them an extra fifteen minutes. "Did you _have_ to tell all of those girls about your escapades with Bradly?" she growled, searching for something in her bag. Mary scowled.

"Yes!" she shot back. "And it's _Brady_."

Lily could almost hear the "whatever" on the tip of Dorcas' tongue. They emerged into the Great Hall, the population of which was dwindling. Marlene was not waiting for them at their usual spot at Gryffindor table. She was not in the Great Hall at all, actually, which they all found to be very odd. "She probably went off to do something else," said Dorcas, adding bitterly, "you know, since we took so long."

"Good morning, Remus," Lily said as she took a seat. "Having a long breakfast?" He looked up from the book he'd propped beside his plate, smiling.

"No, actually, I woke up a bit late,"

Lily grimaced. "You're telling me."

He shut his book, then. "Oh, I heard," he laughed. "You've been initiated into the common room club." The redhead tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear, letting out a pained chuckle (her neck still hurt, as it happened). "Lily, you're making a very small thing into a big deal," Remus reminded her. "It's not nearly as embarrassing as you think it is."

"I know," she admitted. "I'm just going mad. I mean, I didn't even finish my work."

Mary took a dainty bite of muffin. "You mean the Transfiguration assignment?" Lily nodded. Mary set her muffin down, brushing crumbs from her fingertips, and made for her bag. "If you're really having so much trouble," she said, pausing as she pulled out several pieces of parchment, "then just copy from mine."

The three Gryffindors stared at Lily, gauging her reaction. She blinked down at the papers. "Alright," she said finally, reaching into her own bag. They all seemed a little taken aback, but didn't dare to comment. Lily had never been one for cheating. There had been far too many occasions where she'd scolded her friends for doing just that. She pulled the parchment from her bag and stared. "Hold on," she muttered, flipping through the pages. "This is…"

There, scribbled beneath the questions she'd copied onto the parchment, were the answers. _Page 22_ , read one such note, written underneath question five. Sure enough, when Lily flipped to that page, she found the answer in the second paragraph.

"But who?" she mumbled, pushing the parchment towards her friends, who examined the messy writing. Remus coughed, tried to conceal a snort of laughter, and excused himself promptly from the table. _I've just remembered that I have to write my mother...she's sick,_ he explained before darting out of the Great Hall.

"I reckon I know who it was," said Dorcas.

/ / /

They decided to go look for Marlene. No longer in need of help with Transfiguration, but still behind on her work, Lily elected to check the library. A voice at the back of her mind nagged her to go look for someone else, as well. Lily told the voice to keep it's trap shut. On the way there, Lily ran into a teary-eyed Emmeline Vance. "We had a meeting in Ravenclaw tower," she explained in her lilting voice, now laced with sniffles, "you know, for—" She let out a hiccup, "—Priscilla."

"Oh," Lily had replied lamely. She hadn't known Priscilla; there wasn't much to say. With a comforting pat on the back, Lily shuffled off in the direction of the library, glancing worriedly back at Emmeline. The library was mostly barren, as most of the students had escaped onto the grounds for the day. Outside, kids rolled down the green hills beside Hagrid's hut—Lily watched them enviously from the confines of the library, her papers (and nearly complete Transfiguration homework) laid out before her.

Marlene had not been in the library when Lily arrived. And, according to Madam Pince (who was surprised to see a student approaching _her_ ), Marlene had not been in the library at all. Lily sighed, tapping her quill against the table. Half an hour passed, but Lily still hadn't gotten much work done. She re-read the notes on her Transfiguration homework. Some of them were a bit berating: _Honestly, Evans, we learned this in first year._ But most of them were short and simple. Lily squirmed, remembering what Dorcas had told her.

She hated the thought of being indebted to…

"Miss Evans, if you keep tapping like that, I'll have to ask you to…"

"Yes, Madam Pince," she replied, placing her quill on the edge of the table. The librarian stalked away, disappearing behind a large bookcase. Tearing her eyes away from the Transfiguration assignment, Lily moved on to Arithmancy. It was terribly boring stuff; a mathematics-based magic that Lily didn't see herself ever using in the future. Nonetheless, Lily stood, opting to go look for a helpful book she'd used in past years.

In the very first aisle, in the section marked "Arithmancy," Lily found the book she was looking for. It was much higher than she remembered, however, and she'd left her wand at the table. She reached up, extending to the tips of her toes, her fingertips grazing the spine of the book...And then she heard her neck give an awful crack, which made her shake, dropping the book (which she had just barely grabbed). It never made contact with her head, for as she opened her eyes, she found another person in front of her, holding the rogue book out to her.

"Careful," She followed the arm up until she met the nice, blue-green eyes of one Ashton Kipling. "These books are awfully heavy."

Lily laughed dumbly. Then, "Um, thanks." She felt terribly awkward, shifting back and forth, flushed from the roots of her hair to tips of her toes. She finally grabbed onto the book—it was a sturdy, leather-bound book that, sure enough, would have done some damage had it knocked her in the head. Lily blinked down at it and then up at Ashton. She wasn't usually this hopeless. And yet, here she was.

"Say, Lily," Ashton began, flashing her a smile. "You're good at Charms, yeah? Maybe you could help me with this problem I have...Only if you want to, of course." Lily had the distinct feeling that it didn't matter what subject he wanted help on, she would have lent a hand regardless. But, the fact that it _was_ her best subject made her feel decidedly more comfortable when they settled down at a nearby table. "It's this problem, see," He pointed towards a question at the very end of the page.

She grinned. "It's quite easy, really, if you think of the word's definition. _Sonorous_. What does it sound like?"

"Son? Walrus, I suppose?"

They laughed. "Well, yes, but no. How about 'sound?'" pressed Lily. From that point on, they sped through the questions. Lily didn't see the supposed incompetence Ashton claimed to have in Charms. But, she didn't press the matter. Then, as they discussed insects—a far cry from the work they _had_ been doing—a pair of hands slammed down onto the table. Had Lily not been used to rude interruptions, this may have startled her more. Instead, she simply frowned up at James.

" _Evans_ ," he said, out of breath. "We need to talk."

Lily glanced at Ashton, her knuckles white under the table. She wanted to punch James Potter, perhaps more than usual. " _Potter_ ," she mimicked. "I'm in the middle of something." She gestured towards her company, who James disregarded entirely.

"I'm serious!" And Lily would have bit back that she was, too, had Ashton not assured her that it wasn't a problem. James finally acknowledged Ashton at that point, albeit with an utterly strange look. Taking his cue, James strode across the library, occasionally glancing back to make sure that Lily was still following. And, truthfully, she would have made a break for it had she not left her things at a table across the library (and had Ashton not been waiting for her). Finally, they stopped at an alcove in the back.

" _Well_?"

"I was thinking," he started. Lily opened her mouth but stopped at James' sharp look. " _I was thinking_ and I'm going to impress upon you the urgency of this situation again because you're a Prefect and rather bright, so I'm sure you'll understand. The thing about Priscilla Goodwin is…"

Lily growled. " _Potter._ "

He shook his head. "No, Evans, I'm serious. Well, I'm not _Sirius_ , as in my devilishly good-looking best mate. But, I'm _serious_ as in not full-of-shit," he rambled. Before Lily could get in a word, he continued, "Haven't you noticed how under-the-radar this whole investigation has been? That's not normal. Look, there are top-secret cases with more news coverage than this one and that's not right. I mean, they keep insisting that she's...she's dead! And maybe you think she is, but I don't. I know she's out there. And I want to know what happened—"

"God, Potter, this is ridiculous!" Lily was seething. It felt wrong to poke into something so private as the life and death of someone they didn't even know. "Priscilla Goodwin is _gone_. And you know as well as I do that there's a good chance she'll never come back. Things like that happen. People _die_. And, yes, sometimes it's inexplicable and unfair and we don't always like it. But, it happens. Why can't you grow up? Why can't you _get over_ this and realize that there are more important things going on?"

They could hear the _click-click-click_ of Madam Pince's heels.

His eyes watched her every move—every jerk, tremble, and glare. "I'm not letting go of this," he said, quieter than before.

" _Why_?" she pressed. Madam Pince sounded close.

James grabbed her by the shoulders and pressed her deeper into the alcove, such that they were entirely shrouded in darkness. Madam Pince stalked past, thin lips pressed into a line. They didn't move until she was far away, hissing at some other students. "Because," James went on in a whisper, "wouldn't you want someone to fight for your memory?"

* * *

 _A/N_ ; Did you make it through? I'm aware that that chapter was a bit cumbersome. On a different note, I've realized that I never know how to write a proper chapter ending. I dread writing the end of chapters to no end. In case anyone was wondering, I think about _The Crimes of Grindelwald_ 10x a day. And the fact that _you can't apparate on the Hogwarts grounds._ SIGH. Just thought I'd drop that in there, regardless of relevance. With that, I'm all out of things to say. Oh, except...

Because I forgot to include a disclaimer in the prior chapters (I'll have to go and add that in): I'm not J.K. Rowling. Trust me, I'm swimming in student loans. Therefore, I don't own Harry Potter or any of its characters.

And before I forget! Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to everyone who has followed, favorited, and reviewed thus far. You guys seriously don't know how much it means to me! So, again, thank you (and I hope I don't disappoint).

Now that we have that out of the way...Toodles! [SIGNED, SAM]


	5. Chapter 4

_Sometimes, the past belongs in the past._

* * *

In the five years that Lily had known Alice Fortescue, she'd had just as many different hairstyles.

When Alice approached her on that sunny morning, she sported blonde hair just past her shoulders, quite the change from the brunette locks she used to have. "Good morning, Ginge," said Alice, voice echoing across the barren dining hall. She beamed down at Lily, who didn't seem to want to meet her eyes. Alice slid into the seat beside her, piling baked beans from a nearby tureen onto her plate. "Perhaps you've forgotten, but I don't _bite_ ," she laughed, glancing at Lily's profile.

"I'm being ridiculous…"

"Yes," said Alice. "Not that that's unusual for you."

They watched as students began to file in, bleary-eyed and frowning. It was far too early to be as bright as Alice was. "I'm sorry, I should have come to see you and Frank sooner," Lily sighed, frowning, pushing around the hash on her plate. Alice wrinkled her nose, chomping noisily on her food.

"Don't see why you'd want to visit _that_ wanker," Alice pointed her fork angrily into the air. "He's a nightmare. All he wants to do is file reports and he's so _precise_ about it. _Gah!_ " She threw her fork down, folding her arms over her chest, a sour look on her face. Lily could only smile. After all, that _did_ sound like Frank Longbottom. He was as bright as they come but terribly awkward in any given social situation. Lily cringed, remembering the "talking to" she had received from Frank in years past. "If he wasn't so bloody good at his job, I'd have asked for a new mentor," grumbled Alice.

Lily watched Professor McGonagall take her seat; Alice waved jovially at her, McGonagall's frown deepened. Alice had never been the easiest student to handle. "Frank isn't all that bad," said Lily, much to the chagrin of Alice. "He's difficult, yes. But you can hardly act like _you're_ not."

"Plus," laughed Alice, "at least I don't have to deal with the gruesome twosome, eh?"

The redhead thought bitterly of James and Sirius. "Right."

"At least the two of them aren't boring," Alice whined. "Sure, Sirius goes _on_ about that damned motorcycle and James is a bloody prat, but they're funny. Meanwhile, Frank seems to lack a pulse."

Kettleburn snapped at a student for something across the hall. Lily watched, mildly interested, before turning back to Alice. " _Potter_ is annoying," She frowned. "And Sirius goads him on. Which is arguably _more_ annoying." Alice's eyes crinkled up when she smiled; Lily thought it made her look beautiful. She let out a snort of laughter, scraping the last of her food from her plate.

"What's he done now, then?"

"What hasn't he done?" grumbled Lily. But she went on, "He keeps pestering me about Priscilla Goodwin. ' _Evans, don't you think…'_ or ' _What if she's out there?'"_ Lily realized her mistake immediately, sending a panicked look in Alice's direction. She was fuming, however, jaw clenched in a way that seemed unfitting on her soft features.

She let out a breath of air. Then: "That _stupid_ brat. That idiotic boy. Why, I'm going to…"

"Alice, calm down. Calm down, Alice. Alice!" Lily knew she was in trouble. But James might as well have been dead. "He's just _curious_ , is all. He's not getting involved—I think. No, shit, I _know_. He's not. I swear." Alice had already stood. In fact, she was halfway out of the Great Hall, Lily clambering after her. And, as if all of the stars had aligned, James chose that moment to walk in. Lily screeched to a stop, mouth agape. Alice had grabbed the Marauder by his forearm, and with minimal effort, dragged him out of the Great Hall in a matter of seconds. " _Oh_. Oh, _no_."

Sirius blinked at her. "What's got Fortescue on a rampage?"

Lily withered. "It's my fault," she groaned, trudging back to her seat alongside the boys. "Potter is as good as dead." They didn't seem too concerned about this, taking their respective seats around Lily. "Your concern for your friend is _truly_ touching," Lily dead-panned, frowning at each of them. They simply laughed.

"Alice won't kill him," said Peter offhandedly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He went on as he buttered a piece of toast, "She's got a soft spot for James. He's like a little brother to her. I'm sure you know that Potters, Fortescues, and Meadowes are all very close."

"I've heard,"

Remus cleared his throat. "Pureblood families are quite tight-knit."

"Yes," said Sirius, voice dripping with distaste, "my lovely _brother_ and his friends are evidence of that fact."

They fell silent. It was then that Mary and Dorcas walked in. Marlene had barely shown up at all since Friday evening. Most days, she left early in the morning and returned late in the evening, too tired to tell them anything. "Having a nice chat, are we?" said Mary, brushing a lock of brown hair behind her ear.

"About you, actually," said Lily, looking at Dorcas. "Or your family, at least."

"Hm?"

Peter explained that James had been dragged off by Alice and the subsequent conversation that the event had entailed. Dorcas paled considerably, admitting, "She frightens me." There wasn't much that seemed to bother Dorcas at all, given her placid temperament, so this struck all of them as funny. "When James and I were seven, Alice said that we ought to climb up this tree in James' yard. Once we'd done that, she told us that it would be _very fun_ to jump off. I broke seven bones, at least."

Mary erupted into a fit of giggles. "Who's dumb enough to jump off a tree just because someone tells you to?"

"I was young!"

They spent the better half of breakfast recounting stories of Alice in the time they'd known her, only stopping when Frank Longbottom approached their table to ask, "Have any of you seen Alice?" He rubbed the back of his neck tiredly. "We're supposed to be doing rounds soon and I can't find her."

"She left with James a while ago," said Remus.

Frank nodded slowly. "Well, if you see her again, could you tell her I'll be waiting by the dungeons?"

"Sure thing, Frankie," said Sirius, grinning. Nearly half an hour later, they all left for their first class of the week: Transfiguration. "Where is the blonde devil, by the way?" asked Sirius as they climbed the staircase to the second floor. "I haven't seen hide nor tail of her in far too long."

Remus nodded, "I was wondering the same thing."

"We don't know," sighed Mary dramatically. "Marlene hasn't told us anything."

"I'm sure she will," cut in Lily, "it's not like her to keep things from... _us_." She had wanted to say "me," for that was the truth. Marlene and Lily had always been close, despite all odds. They had shared a mutual distaste for one another at first, but that quickly morphed into respect, followed by friendship. Marlene was troublesome; Lily was not. They balanced each other out, in many ways. And there was a trust in their friendship that Lily hadn't even experienced with Severus. Marlene told her everything, so Lily did the same. She even knew the brief details of Lily's summer. But, that was…

"Lily!"

She stumbled into someone, her books knocking to the floor. "We need to stop meeting like this, Lily Evans," she heard Ashton Kipling say, handing her the books she'd dropped. "I'm beginning to think you just like when I pick up your things." He laughed and Lily smiled bashfully, willing away the hotness in her face. She glanced behind him, where an Auror stood, leaning against the wall. Lily figured that they must have been talking when she'd interrupted. Her friends had passed, calling out that they'd see her in Transfiguration.

Lily walked with Ashton, who was heading in the same direction. "Talking to an Auror, huh? I didn't see you as the 'getting in trouble' type," she said conversationally. His grin faltered.

"I wasn't talking to an Auror," he said.

"Oh, my bad," she laughed. "I saw him behind you and just assumed…"

Ashton shook his head. "It's fine," He waved to a passing friend. "I'm just not the biggest fan of the Auror department, you see." Lily raised her eyebrows, after all, that was a brave thing to admit to someone you didn't entirely know. A lack of allegiance to the Ministry was traitorous—allowed, strictly speaking—but frowned upon, nonetheless. "I'm not sure they know what they're doing, is all."

"No need to explain," Lily replied. She stopped in front of her classroom, coddling her books against her chest rather awkwardly. "I, well, I'll be off, then."

"Yes, see you," He turned to leave, but stopped. "Oh, and Lily! Sorry about leaving on Saturday. Something came up while you were talking."

She grinned. "It's fine."

"Bye, Lily,"

"Goodbye, Ashton,"

/ / /

 _Thanks a lot._

Lily glared at the boy behind her, whose cheekbone was a nasty shade of purple. She'd gaped at James when he'd walked in, as had many of their classmates. Looking glum, James had sat down and proceeded to glare at Lily for the entirety of Transfiguration thus far. She re-read his note and annoyed, wrote back, _You're very welcome._ McGonagall busied herself across the room and Lily tossed the paperback. She could hear James grumbling behind her. Sirius read the note over his shoulder and snorted.

He hadn't had a nice chat with Alice. She had iron fists and a fiery attitude, which didn't amount to anything good for James. After marching him out of the castle entirely, she'd chased him around the grounds, fists flailing. "What did I tell you about finding trouble for yourself?" she had screamed, her foot connecting with his backside. He'd fallen at that point, hitting his cheek against a rock in the ground, and thus had received the bruise that now decorated his face. After a very long lecture, she'd sent him on his way, warning him that she "better not see him poking his head around that case."

So, James was rather upset with Lily, who had started the whole ordeal. _I need to talk to you, Evans._

 _That's nice_ , she wrote back. James scowled. When the ending bell had rung, James sprung from his seat to approach Lily. "We're not talking about this," she warned, her books held tight to her chest. Lily smiled at a passing friend, then, turning to James, "Unless you'd like me to have another chat with Alice…"

"No!" he replied quickly. "But, I'm not giving up. I thought I made it clear that I can't just let this go! I can't...I don't...I _hate_ injustice." James dragged a hand through his hair; Lily wrinkled her nose at this but said nothing. They squeezed through the crowded corridors, Lily scolding younger kids for not moving fast enough. Finally, emerging into a more open space, Lily turned on James, very much exasperated.

"I'm not kidding around, Potter, you don't know what you're messing with," said Lily. He saw something akin to concern in her eyes. She continued, "Do you know what it would look like if people saw you meddling around in the Priscilla Goodwin case?"

James looked away. "I know," he insisted, "I know, but no one else is doing anything. Alice herself said so. And Evans, listen. I've decided that I want to take things a step further—" Lily rolled her eyes, "—I want to talk to her friends, her roommates."

"Absolutely not!"

"But…"

Lily gave him a rather severe look. "No, you will _not_ ," she insisted. "James, those girls have been through enough. They don't need some sixteen-year-old _accosting_ them." The bells chimed and Lily rushed off to her next class, Arithmancy, with James following close behind (he had a free block, as it happened). They stopped in front of her classroom and Lily whipped around, glaring at James. "I'm serious, James, you better not confront those girls."

"Then, you do it,"

She stiffened. "I will not!"

"Then I will," he continued, spinning around. Lily caught his forearm. "Yes?"

For a moment, the redhead seemed conflicted, then, "I'll do it. Okay? Happy? I'll do it." James smiled triumphantly. "But, that's _it_. I'll find her friends, chat with them, report back, and then I want no part in whatever comes next. Alright?" Not liking the look on James' face, she added, "I'm serious, Potter!"

"Understood, Evans,"

Lily slipped silently into the Arithmancy classroom as James strode away. _He'll be the death of me_ , she thought, sliding into the seat beside Remus. He gave her an odd, questioning look. Lily shrugged. In fact, she wasn't entirely sure how she'd been dragged into James' wild goose chase. She wasn't even sure why he'd been pestering _her_ about it in the first place. Lily hadn't known Priscilla. She certainly didn't know much about her case, either. And yet…

Remus nudged her. Lily looked up to find Professor Septima Vector, a spritely (but terribly dull) witch, frowning at her. "Miss Evans," she said, and the disappointment in her voice made Lily shrivel, "I simply cannot accept tardiness. You'll meet me in my office tonight, at 7, for detention."

Without another word to Lily, she turned and continued the lesson. Ashamed, Lily sunk into her seat, avoiding the curious looks from her classmates. It was not like her to be late. In fact, she had never received a detention for such a silly offense. Lily let out a meager sigh, copying the number charts that Professor Vector had scribbled across the board. If she hadn't resented James enough as it was, she surely felt a pit in her stomach at the thought of him _now_.

"You were late because of _James_ ," repeated Remus incredulously at the end of class. "Of all things."

Lily stuffed her papers into the front of her textbook. "I _know_ ," she said, "but we were arguing and I lost track of time...before I knew it, the bell had rung…" The quill she'd been holding snapped in half. Lily sighed, muttering a repair charm. But even her spellwork had been tarnished as a result of her poor mood, as the quill remained positively broken. Remus handed her one of his own quills. They departed for lunch together. "He's _your_ best friend," said Lily pathetically, "can't you get him to snap out of this?"

When he laughed, Lily felt even more miserable. "He may be my best friend, Lily, but I'm not a miracle worker," said Remus, adjusting his bag on his shoulder, "Once James is set on something, that's it." There was a pause, and then: "Like you, for instance." Lily choked, glaring at Remus, who was laughing.

"Please," she said, "never bring _that_ up again."

Marlene, as if she hadn't been absent for several days, fell into step with them, grinning. "Bring what up?"

"Fancy of you to show up," bit back Lily. Marlene reached out to pinch her cheek endearingly.

"Did my darling Lily miss me?" asked Marlene sweetly. Lily rolled her eyes. "But, again, bring what up?" Remus opened his mouth but caught Lily's glare, and simply smiled. "Well, anyway," said Marlene, "I'll tell you at dinner what I've been doing. But, for now, I better be off." With that, she walked off down an opposite corridor, leaving Remus and Lily to stare after her.

They laughed. "She's a mystery, isn't she?" said Remus, picking at the frayed bits of his robe. Lily could only sigh. Of all of her friends, Marlene caused the most trouble. She had a quick temper and an incessant need to prove herself. The redhead shook her head, turning to examine Remus, who had grown quiet. He was staring off into the distance, his brow furrowed, as if pondering something troublesome. She thought that he could use a new school robe, as the one he wore had grown very tired, and thought that she'd send in for one to give him for his birthday. Lily didn't like to think that Remus was struggling at home. It seemed wrong for people like him to suffer. "Hm?"

He was looking at her. "Sorry," she said quickly. "I was thinking."

"Let's go to lunch," he said, and they went off in that direction. Following behind him, Lily stared at his tidy hair and the ink blotches that dotted his satchel and thought that James Potter was very lucky to have a friend like Remus Lupin. He turned to smile back at her.

 _Very lucky, indeed._

/ / /

"Have you done it?"

Lily glared pointedly at James, but answered, " _No_. I don't even know who her friends are. And before you ask, yes, I've been trying to find that much out." And she had. Neither Mary nor Dorcas were familiar with the fifth year Ravenclaws. Lily herself didn't normally associate with too many Ravenclaws, save for Emmeline Vance, but she didn't think it was in good taste to confront someone who was clearly grieving. James looked impatient, his eyes darting from Lily to the Ravenclaw table. "I'll figure it out, Potter, calm down."

He made to say something but was cut off by the arrival of Marlene, who was beaming. Cradled in the crook of her arm was a large stack of what looked to be newspapers. The Gryffindors gave her an odd look. "This is what I've been working on," she announced and set the papers onto the bench. Lily peeked over the edge of the table, where a black-and-white face was growling at them from the front cover. Excited, Marlene handed the newspapers out to each of them, setting the rest of the stack aside so she could take a seat. "Well, go on, take a look!" she prompted as she piled food onto her plate.

— _THE DAILY REBEL—_

 _REAL NEWS. REAL RESISTANCE._

They skimmed the contents of the front page: an article on an acquitted Death Eater, safety tips for the rebel wizard, and a death toll (17, it read ominously). When Lily looked up, she found Marlene grinning at her. "What do you think?"

"Did you write this?" asked Sirius.

She shook her head. "Yeah, right, I can't write for shit," she laughed around bites of roast pork. "It's my sister's. She gets contributions from friends and Ministry-critics. Isn't it glorious?" James was reading an article on the next page very intently. He looked up, grim but smiling.

"It's amazing,"

Marlene looked excited. "She sent me a copy in the post and asked me to make copies and distribute them around Hogwarts. That's what I've been doing in my free time. All those copying charms take a lot out of you…" Had it not been for the enthusiasm of the rest of the group, Marlene wouldn't have noticed that Mary had set the paper aside, looking very much as though she'd rather pretend it was not there at all. "Do you not like it?" the blonde asked, frowning.

Flicking a curl of brown hair from her face, Mary met Marlene's gaze. "It's terribly morbid, isn't it?" she responded, pushing her food around her plate. When she looked up again, she found several pairs of eyes on her. "Oh, don't look at me like that. Just because I'm not enthused about all of this...rebellion business."

" _You_ of all people," said Dorcas quietly.

Mary glared at her. " _What was that, Meadowes?_ "

She swallowed thickly, set down her paper, and looked up. "I _said_ ," began Dorcas venomously, "that it's rather odd for you, of all people, to not feel more passionate about this! It's your future, Mary! No, it's your _life_."

Mary stood, then, enraged. "You can't stop a _war_ if there's going to be one!¹"

The entire room fell into silence, Mary seething above them, cheeks brighter than the rouge she'd worn that day. Then, turning on her heel, Mary stormed out of the Great Hall. Lily thought she saw a tear slide down her cheek but didn't mention it. She sighed. "Dorcas," she said calmly, "you know how she is, you can't…"

"I _know_ ," spat Dorcas, picking the paper back up. "But she ought to stop acting like nothing's wrong."

The boys looked uncomfortable. "D'you think she'll be alright?" Peter asked James lowly. The taller boy shrugged, looking at the door Mary had just exited through. She had always been dramatic, she had always been a bit childish, but she had never been ignorant. Still, James didn't think that was it. He didn't think that Mary was blind or that she had failed to notice what was going. No, rather, he thought that he understood Mary. In her brown eyes, he saw the Mary MacDonald he'd met at age eleven, small and fragile and scared. And James thought that, maybe, she had never stopped being that fragile girl (even, and perhaps most especially, when she acted like she wasn't).

"It's just Mary being Mary," said Marlene, who had perked up considerably. "She'll come around, don't worry." But, they could hear the uncertainty in her voice. The blonde launched into a story about a very attractive bloke she'd met in the Owlery. And things fell back to their normal pace. James glanced over at Lily, who hadn't said much, and found her staring intently at the Ravenclaw table, eyes alight with something akin to realization.

"Oi, Marlene," said Lily during a lull in the conversation. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about the fifth year Ravenclaws?"

She scratched her temple. "I don't know much," she admitted, "I don't like Ravenclaws much, actually. I think Priscilla Goodwin would have been a fifth year, though, wouldn't she? She was always hanging around people from her house. I think there were four other girls…"

"Say, Lily, isn't that bloke you've been talking to in Ravenclaw?" cut in Dorcas.

Lily grinned, "You're right! I can't believe I forgot about Ashton. I can just ask _him_."

"Ashton?" said Sirius. "As in Ashton Kipling? Asher Kipling's brother?" Lily didn't say anything, but Sirius went on. "Asher was such a bloody tosser. Fooled around too much. D'you know he works nights at the Leaky Cauldron? Had the displeasure of running into him over the summer and…"

"That's enough," said James.

Taking his cue, Sirius turned to Remus to ask him about an assignment he hadn't done. Peter told Dorcas and Marlene about the stories he'd heard about the squid in the lake. And James examined Lily from the corner of his eye; she was looking into her bowl of soup as if it was a Pensieve. "Thanks," she whispered, only barely audible.

He frowned. "Don't be mistaken, Evans," he said seriously. "I can't stand that prat. And, frankly, I…" James let out a long sigh. "You know what? It's not worth it. You don't get it." Scowling, Lily picked her bag up from the floor, excused herself from the table and hurried out of the Great Hall. She knew he was behind her. She supposed it came from trying to avoid him so much. James reached out to her, his fingers grazing the fabric of her robes.

Lily whipped around before he could grab her. He stared into her red-rimmed, watery eyes and wished he had stayed behind. "I _do_ get it," she said loudly. "How could I not? Everything in this bloody castle is a reminder, for God's sake." Her frantic hands wiped tears from her cheeks. "I made a mistake. Asher Kipling was an idiot and a cheat and a billion other terrible, awful things but I...I _liked_ him and I liked how he made me _feel_. And I had to hear it from _everyone_ about how stupid I was being. _Oh, Lily, that's a mistake. You need to get away._ _He's trouble_. And I knew, I knew, I _know_. But...I couldn't escape. I went back to him every time because he made me feel so _special_ and I needed that."

"I didn't mean…"

"Look," said Lily, adjusting herself. All that was left of her outburst was the remnants of tears on her cheeks. She brushed those away, too. "Look, I'm trying really hard to move on. I'm trying to not resent the sight of you...and I'm trying to not want to run right back to a friendship that was cursed from the start...and I'm trying to not see the fact that I was in love with someone as awful as Asher Kipling... and I'm trying not to think about how much my mother cries...and I'm trying not to think about how my own sister hates me...I'm _trying_ ," she rambled, looking everywhere but at James. He looked at the ground, ashamed.

James mussed up his hair. He thought that he ought to say something…

"I don't know why I've said all of that to you," Lily admitted. "We're not even friends."

Quietly: "We could be."

Lily laughed—it wasn't spiteful, but unsure. " _Please_ ," she said, pushing stray hairs out of her eyes. "We could never be friends."

/ / /

"She said that?"

James nodded grimly. The shiny golden Snitch whizzed around in front of his face, James watched it lazily. As his fingers met the body, the wings fluttered shut, and all he was left with was a glorified ball. It was strange how different things were from afar, James thought. Like how when you're on the outside, looking in on something, it looks much nicer than when you're in the thick of it. Like how Lily Evans looked happy, but when you got close, you could see all of the scars etched just beneath her skin. "Don't know what I was expecting, actually."

At that point, Sirius emerged from beneath his bed, where he was looking for his leather jacket. "Still," he said sourly, "she didn't have to be a bitch, don't you think?" He scratched his head, glancing around the room for the missing article of clothing. Then, he neared James, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, Prongsie, you can always date me if the whole Evans thing doesn't work out."

He snorted, at first, and then let out a big guffaw of laughter. "You'd break my heart."

" _Never!_ "

James sat up, back pressed against the headboard, his laugh fading into a chuckle. Remus watched them from his own bed, a soft grin on his lips. And James thought that, perhaps, he didn't need Lily. He had his friends, and at that moment, that felt like enough. But, then, the laugh fell from his lips and they stopped smiling and the hurt returned. "If I ever see him, I'll kill him," said James, fisting the blankets of his bed. Sirius rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

"Nah, you won't," he said and smiled at James' glare. He threw Peter's covers off his bed, but his jacket wasn't there either. The room was in desperate need of a thorough cleaning. "Because, at the end of the day, you'll do anything she wants you to. And she sure as hell doesn't want you to kill Asher Kipling."

"It's not fair," James went on, "it's not fair that she has to suffer when assholes like him are fine."

Peter, who was sitting on the floor, doing homework, grunted. "It's not fair that she makes _you_ suffer this much."

"Still, the good news is that she now recognizes how much of a prat Asher is," said James, ignoring Peter entirely. "That reminds me, I hope she doesn't forget about that thing she promised…"

They stared at James. " _There_ it is!" exclaimed Sirius, seizing his jacket from the bottom of a pile of dirty clothes. Remus wrinkled his nose as Sirius slid the heavily-used jacket over his shoulders. "Care for a smoke?" he asked, flashing a smashed package of cigarettes in James' direction. He shrugged.

"Yeah, sure,"

Peter and Remus stayed behind, the latter of which had promised the former to help with his Charms assignment. They traipsed down the stairs as the clock struck eleven, the common room's populace thinning. Mary sat in the corner, scowling at her textbook. "Don't feel like talking," she warned as they approached. Sirius held his hands up defensively, laughed, and headed for the portrait hole. " _James,_ " growled Mary, "I said…"

"And I heard you," he said quickly. "I just...can you check on Evans for me? We didn't leave off on the right note…"

"When do you ever?" sighed Mary.

James managed a chuckle. "Still, could you do this one thing for me?" Mary gave him a skeptical look but eventually offered a noncommittal shrug. "You're lovely. Truly. Thanks, Mar." He padded off in the direction of Sirius, who was calling for him.

Mary had been looking for an excuse to talk to her friends. She knew that without one it would be another week, at least, until she could acceptably approach them. Gathering her things, she watched the girls' dormitory staircase apprehensively. Dorcas wasn't the forgiving type, actually, as nice as she seemed. They'd fought for months in years past, over things much smaller than their current predicament. And it wasn't that Mary was willing to give in this time, either. It was that, as Lily had said earlier, it was exhausting being angry. Mary wasn't the fiery girl she'd been once. She hadn't been, since…

She shook her head, took a deep breath, and ascended the stairs. For a long time, she simply stood before the sixth year girls' dormitory, tracing her fingers along the names carved into it from years past. It was a tradition that on the last day of seventh year, the graduating students made their final mark on the castle. The door swung open and Mary stared, wide-eyed, into the eyes of Dorcas. Her eyes were hard and Mary feared that she would yell, but she sighed, "It's late. Come get some sleep."

"O-Oh," Lily was staring at her from her bed, red hair splayed out across the covers, scribbling something into a notebook. Mary sat on her own bed, which was across from Lily's, and watched her for a while. Eventually, she felt Lily's green eyes on her, and she met her gaze. "James wanted me to check on you."

Lily stiffened. "He should mind his own business," she sniffed, pressing her quill more firmly into her notebook.

Marlene, who was pulling a comb through her sunny locks, made a sharp tsking sound. "Don't be _mean_ , Lily," she scolded, "he's just worried. I mean, you really let everything out on the poor boy, I'm sure he's shaken up." Then, to the mirror, she added, "Told _him_ before you told all of _us_ , but whatever…"

" _Really_ ," said Lily, "this again."

Noticing the lost look on Mary's face, Marlene explained, "Lily shagged Asher Kipling on the train last year. Now, she's full of regrets _and_ she's been flirting with his younger brother, Ashton. She's forgiven James but still hates Snape. And tonight, she exploded on James because he was criticizing her choice in men."

Mary blinked at all of them. "I thought all of this was common knowledge?" she said quietly, and they all stared at her. So, she told the details of how Deanna Diggle heard from Winton Hedgecombe who heard from Asher Kipling himself that he had slept with Lily Evans. The rest, she went on to tell, was just common knowledge ("I mean, honestly, who _didn't_ see your row with Snape and Potter.") Lily was horror-struck and muttering, now very nearly tearing through the pages of her notebook.

"It's not a big deal," said Dorcas frantically, watching as Lily came dangerously close to snapping her quill. "Everyone has scandals!"

"Not a big deal?" she echoed, and they braced themselves. Lily Evans was like the ocean. Sometimes, she rocked gently, her waves lapping against the soft sand, bubbling and spitting. But there were other days where she was a raging riptide, sucking in everyone around her and spitting them back out into the abyss, until they felt they couldn't go on. There were days where her waves crashed against the shore, knocking away the homes and carving out a new spot of land in her wake. Today felt like one of those days. But, instead, Lily let out a low whistle of air, set down her quill, and replied, "You're right, Dorcas."

"I-I am?"

Her green eyes swept the room, giving the tense girls an odd look. "Yes, I think so," she said, "I mean, I'm overreacting. Aren't I? I should just calm down. It was just a shag...yeah, just a tiny mistake. No big deal. Life goes on. Anyway, he's out of my life." She let out a loud laugh. "I don't even _think_ about him anymore!"

But, later that night, among the hooting of owls and buzz of fireflies, they heard her: soft sobs muffled by her pillow. And they knew, just as well as they had a few hours ago, that she was not fine, that she had not been so for a while. More importantly, even if it was only to Lily, what had happened last year was not _just_ a mistake.

/ / /

The next morning, they pretended everything was fine.

The morning after that, they did the same.

"Eggs, Lily?" asked Marlene and the redhead looked up to shake her head, smiling. "Your loss," she chirped, tipping the rest of the bowl onto her plate. Lily was scribbling notes into the very same notebook, and by this point, had filled pages. When the girls bothered to look over her shoulder, most of what they could make out was nonsensical—a hair color, numbers, what looked to be poorly-formed names. Most of the time, they didn't question it. Lily became defensive when they asked, anyway. _Nothing_ , she'd hissed at Mary, _just something I'm working on_.

Today, when Marlene peeked at the notebook, she found an entire list of names. Some had been crossed out, others underlined, but four had been singled out by a large box. _Pippa Parsimoni. Adora Shanks. Jean Pirrip. Emma Bridgewater_. The last of the names had been accented with an arrow, which lead to the words, _Best Friend_. She leaned back to watch Lily, who was tapping her quill against the names. Finally, she got up from the bench, bringing her notebook with her, and said, "I'll be back, hold my seat."

Lily had it all figured out. It had taken her longer than she'd imagined, but she had been unable to locate Ashton until late the night before. Even so, she had had a pretty good idea, and most of what he had done was fact-checking. As it turned out, it wasn't all that hard to track down the fifth year Ravenclaw girls, given the relative popularity of one of them: Pippa Parsimoni. And, Lily thought as she approached the Ravenclaw table, she was not the kind of girl you wanted to be on the bad side of.

"Hi," she greeted, holding her head high. The girls looked up to regard her, Pippa resting her chin on the palm of her delicate hand. Lily held her breath; Pippa smiled.

"Lily Evans?" she asked, and Lily got the distinct feeling that this girl knew more about her than she would ever admit. " _Pleasure_. I'm Pippa. Pippa Parsimoni," she drawled. Lily nodded. "This is Adora Shanks, Jean Pirrip, and…" Pippa gestured towards the other blonde girl, who was not a pin-up blonde like Pippa, but who held herself in a way that made her look as if she was constantly shrinking. "Emma Bridgewater."

Jean, whose red hair was several shades darker than Lily's, gave her a half-smile. "What brings you over here?"

"Actually," said Lily, rocking from one foot to another, "I was looking to speak to Emma."

The blonde turned around, frightened blue eyes shining up at Lily. " _M-Me?_ " whispered Emma, glancing at the other girls from the corner of her eye. Pippa smiled evenly at Lily, head still balanced in her hand.

"You'll find that anything you need to say to Emma, you can say to all of us," Pippa said slowly, as if to make sure that Lily would understand. The two other girls—Adora and Jean—who had seemed so friendly moments before, now looked at Lily as if she was a bothersome nat they'd very much like to squish between their palms.

But, Lily was not the easily intimidated type. "No," She held her notebook a little tighter. "I want to speak to Emma. _Just_ Emma."

"Well, I don't know if Emma likes that," Adora snapped.

Lily looked at Emma. "Do you mind, Emma?"

Looking torn, Emma looked at her friends (Pippa offered a curt nod) and back to Lily. "It's just a chat," she said quietly and rose. Jean reached out to grab her wrist; Emma managed a smile. "I'll be right back." She followed Lily from the Great Hall, struggling to maintain even the smallest of conversations. Lily knew what losing your best friend looked like—she had stared at it in the mirror for months—but that didn't seem to be the only thing plaguing Emma Bridgewater.

"Are you okay, Emma?" The younger girl blinked at her. She was thin, in the sickly sense, and her eyes were so sunken that if not for the powder she'd applied, she would have looked bruised. When a minute had passed without a response, Lily went on, "I just want to talk to you about...Priscilla."

A shudder. Emma's fingers coiled into tight fists, which she shoved behind her back. "I don't really…"

"I just want to help," urged Lily, reaching out for Emma. She winced away. "I'm not going to tell anyone," she lied, and hated herself for it, "I just want to know that you're alright...I just want to make sure that whatever happened to Priscilla...doesn't happen to anyone else. E-Emma, are you alright? Emma?" Her eyes were shut tightly, her face turned away from Lily as she bit her lip so hard that a trickle of blood fell down her chin. "What happened to Priscilla, Emma? _Emma!_ "

Her eyes flew open, her fists undone as she rubbed her upper arms. "I didn't know Priscilla very well, actually," she deflected, ignoring her episode entirely. Emma turned as if to return to the Great Hall, noting, "I better get back…"

"Really?" pressed Lily, following her. "Because from what I hear, the two of you were quite close…"

Emma's eyes were wide. " _What do you know_?" she whispered and bolted back into the Great Hall. Lily stood, dumbstruck, staring after her in the echoing Entrance Hall. The altercation left her feeling odd. Lily paced. She hadn't wanted to admit that James was right. In fact, she hadn't, up until that moment, thought that she'd find anything concerning. And yet, Emma Bridgewater had left her with a pressing question…

 _What did she_ not _know?_

For a while, Lily sat at the base of the second-floor staircase, not quite sure what to make of the situation. She wasn't entirely convinced that her prior conclusions about Priscilla Goodwin were false. But, now, an undeniable complexity had been added to the situation. Even more strange, Lily had the strongest desire to speak to _James Potter_. This was a development she couldn't accept, so she didn't dare return to breakfast.

In fact, she avoided James for the better part of the day. It wasn't all that hard, so long as she didn't acknowledge his intense staring. Unnerved, Lily could hardly concentrate throughout Transfiguration. Arithmancy had been a break, but as she stepped out of the classroom, she was bombarded by messy hair and skewed glasses. " _Ouch_ , Potter! You can't just grab people like that, it's very rude…" she rambled, pulling fruitlessly against his grasp. "You're one pull away from _Avada Kedavra_ , you awful boy!"

James released her. Wheeling around, it occurred to Lily that they were alone. "I know you talked to Priscilla's friends."

"Well, nice one, genius. If you haven't heard, apparently _everyone_ knows now," growled Lily. "That terrible girl...spreading lies...Pippa Parsimoni, if I ever get my hands on her…" James watched her, somewhere between annoyed and bemused. He _had_ heard the rumors. Pippa had constructed a far-fetched story about Lily, Emma, and a supposed third party male with which they were both involved. The entire thing was ludicrous, so naturally, the entire school believed it.

"Evans, focus," James pressed, "what did they tell you?"

Lily frowned. "Absolutely nothing," she answered. James groaned. "No, that's the weird thing. It's like...they didn't want anything to be said. Most people, from what I understand, want their loved one to be remembered, no? But, with them...It's like Priscilla never existed."

"I don't understand…"

The redhead folded her arms over her chest. "Exactly. It doesn't make any sense. There's something strange going on with them and I'm not sure what to make of it. Maybe it's grief? If not...then guilt?"

" _Guilt_?" echoed James. "Evans, what you're suggesting is…"

"No, that's _not_ what I'm suggesting. It's just weird, okay? That's all. It's weird."

James smiled. "So, you admit that I was right? You admit that I was right when I said something was off?" Lily rolled her eyes, turning her back on James. She fixed her gaze on the Forbidden Forest, the treetops were just visible from the windows along the corridor. James was giddy: pacing the length of the corridor, glancing at Lily, muttering to himself. He took great joy in knowing that he was right.

"That said," Lily began suddenly. "I need you to stay out of this. This isn't a puzzle or a mystery novel, James. These are people's lives. This is an _open_ case concerning a missing person. One misstep and you're a suspect, you got that? So, please, leave it be."

"Evans, you don't get it…"

She pointed at James. "Stop _saying_ that! I'm not an idiot, Potter. Far from it, thank you very much. I _do_ get it. A girl has gone missing and no one wants to talk about it and it's _gnawing_ at you. The curiosity is under your _fucking skin_ , isn't it? But, this isn't a game! There are Aurors patrolling the castle. There are people in this castle who'd love nothing more than to see you or me locked up. Do _you_ get that?"

James made to argue, but Lily silenced him with a severe look.

"I did what you wanted; I played your game. I'm done. And I swear to everything, James, if I see you poking your head around anymore...I _will_ get someone to knock some sense into you," hissed Lily. James shivered, watching as she adjusted her robes and tucked pieces of hair behind her ears. Then, she turned to him again: "You've been warned. I'll be off."

James never _did_ listen to warnings.

* * *

 _A/N;_ This entire chapter was based on the fact that I imagine Alice changing her hair a lot. Seriously, I was stuck, but then that popped into my head and the light bulb stayed on from that point forward. Did it stay on while I tried to write my term papers? _No_. Hahaha, I'm suffering. Especially because this is my last pre-written chapter (assuming that my lazy-ass hasn't edited and uploaded chapter five, that is). I typed out a whole long note before I realized that I was rambling more than was necessary.

You know the drill: review, favorite, follow (if you'd like)! With that...[SIGNED, SAM]

 _Disclaimer_ : Still not the owner of Harry Potter. Curse you, cruel fate.


	6. Chapter 5

_I keep secrets so that you don't have to._

* * *

 _James,_

 _I'm doing just fine._

 _With love,_

 _Mum_

The owl hooted discontentedly, nipping at James' fingers. Sighing, he offered the plussed bird a treat, which it took greedily before flapping off to the depths of the Owlery. His brow was still beaded with sweat from early morning Quidditch practice, he wiped at it with the back of his hand, eyes still trained on the letter clutched in his other hand. " _I'm doing just fine_ ," James read dully. "Is that all?"

There were no nuances to the letter, no secret messages or thinly veiled pleas for help. It was little more than a memo. And yet, it screamed so terribly of his mother that James would have smiled if he wasn't so frustrated. The cavalier way in which she wrote was not so different from the way she conducted herself in person: pleasant but curt.

They always communicated this way. The family owl would carry his mother's letters only as far as the Owlery. Not once had James received a letter from his mother in the traditional way. Still, if not normal, it was routine. James slipped out of the Owlery doors, basking in the damp morning air. Far below, students tramped down to the greenhouses for their Herbology classes. Where had the time gone? James would be late to class.

Taking two or three steps at a time and sprinting across the castle, James made it to Defense with a minute to spare. "Ah, Mr. Potter," said Wylard Wydalcus from the front of the room, his back turned, "take a seat, please."

James cast a wary glance the Professor's way but slid into his seat beside Sirius without question. "Letter from your mom?" whispered Sirius, eyes trained on Wydalcus.

"Yes,"

Sirius turned to look at James, then, scanning his face for any inconsistency. "Everything's fine, then?"

A pause. Wydalcus copied notes onto the chalkboard. " _Just fine_."

Eventually, Wydalcus broke the class into partners to complete an assignment. James found himself partnered with Marlene, who gave Lily a pitiful glance as Bertram Aubrey sidled up to her. "Where were you at breakfast?" began Marlene, approaching. She slid into Sirius' seat and set her books heavily upon the desk.

"Why? Did you miss me?" jested James.

Marlene grinned, "Har Har." They flipped open their books, Marlene withdrawing parchment for herself and James. "I was _wondering_ because you missed my distribution of _The Daily Rebel_ ," said Marlene at length, scanning the book for the answer to the first question.

"It's just here," said James, indicating the second paragraph. "Do you have any left, then?"

The blonde procured a copy from underneath her books. "I saved one," she said, "you can thank me later." James made to grab it, but the newspaper had disappeared from Marlene's grasp just as soon. They watched it fly over the heads of students, and at last, into the open hand of their Professor.

"What's this?" he said, a mocking grin tugging at his lips. "A _newspaper_."

Marlene rose. "That's mine," she demanded, ruffled. Wydalcus skimmed the contents, chuckling. James watched the blonde bristle, blue eyes boring holes into their Professor's head. All of the students had turned their attention to the Professor, watching him peruse the newspaper, breath bated.

"As I suspected," said Wydalcus finally. He met Marlene's stern gaze. "This isn't a newspaper. It's inflammatory," he sneered, Marlene opened her mouth to argue, but Wydalcus continues, "And you'll find that, in fact, it is rather flammable, as well." The newspaper burst into flames. Marlene shrieked.

James stood up. "Professor, that's a student's belonging, you can't just—"

"I'm afraid I _can_ , Potter," replied the Professor, tossing the remnants of the newspaper onto the desk behind him. "You see, as a Professor, it's my duty to remove anything harmful from the student populace. It's for your own good." Marlene's jaw was set, her gaze trained on the board behind Wydalcus. She looked murderous.

"I suppose we'll have to see what Professor Dumbledore thinks, then," said Lily from across the room. She remained seated, her arms crossed over her chest. "I mean, if this is really harmful to the students, then the Headmaster ought to know. Don't you agree, Professor?"

Wydalcus pursed his lips. "No, I don't suppose…"

"I insist,"

/ / /

The halls were a jarring contrast from the atmosphere of the classroom—raucous and busy where the last hour had been silent and brooding. "You were brilliant, Lily," said Dorcas, stuffing a book into her bag. "But, that Wydalcus…"

Marlene, who had been quiet, let out a heavy sigh. "It's never easy, is it?"

"Of course not," said James, "but why should that mean we stop trying?"

The blonde smiled up at him. "I'm sorry about your copy," she said, "I can send in for another one if you'd like."

James shook his head. "Nah," The group turned the corner and began to ascend a staircase. "I'll just steal Sirius' copy." The mentioned boy feigned a look of affrontation before breaking into a grin. James slung an arm around his shoulder. Mary huffed up the stairs, hopping over the trick step with ease and falling into step with James.

"Look, Potter," she said through heavy breaths. "Do you hear how out of breath I am? Do you know _why_ that is?" James blinked at the pretty brunette. She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear and scowled. " _Five_ _early morning practices in a row, that's why!_ "

James smiled. "I'm preparing you."

"No, you're _killing_ me," replied the brunette. She had to walk fast to match James' long strides. "You want us _dead_. You're trying for _murder_. Your whole starting lineup is going to be _deceased_ before we even have the chance to play Hufflepuff," Mary cried. James rolled his eyes, but both Dorcas and Sirius offered grunts of approval. The Quidditch Captain looked at his teammates incredulously.

"We're weeks behind!" he demanded. They grumbled in response. "Look, we lost some of our best players this year. I'm just trying to make sure we're ready. Hufflepuff has a new Seeker and…"

Mary scowled. "Oh, so you don't trust _me_."

"That's not what I meant, Mary," The group fell into an argument as James defended himself from the criticisms of his friends and teammates. At last, the argument came to a halt as Lily, looking ruffled, turned on all of them.

"I have to go," she announced, and without waiting for their response, rushed back down the staircase. At the base of the stairs, she turned to call up, "I'll see you at lunch!"

The rest of the Gryffindors continued towards their next class. "Won't she be late?" asked Peter, casting a nervous glance back to where the redhead had disappeared. Remus shook his head and sighed.

"She's been like that for a while now," he said, "I'm sure she'll be fine."

After Lily's confrontation with Emma Bridgewater, things had fallen back into their rightful places. It was normal, it was comfortable. Lily and James didn't talk to each other. After all, they had no reason to. James was busy, anyway. Quidditch tryouts were that weekend—the Hufflepuff match itself was just around the corner. He dragged a hand through his hair. The Priscilla Goodwin case wouldn't hang around forever. The longer he waited, the farther away a solution became. Still, now wasn't the right time. Lily and Alice were still keeping an eye on him.

"Alright, mate?" asked Sirius.

James smiled. "I'm doing just fine."

/ / /

"Emma, listen,"

The blonde turned her back, arms crossed over her chest. She shut her eyes as if that would make the redhead disappear. "I don't _know_ , Lily. I don't know _anything_. Why are you doing this to me?"

Lily was exasperated. "I'm trying to help you! Can't you see?" The blonde turned around and glared at her. Lily sighed. "I know that there's more to this. I've _seen_ how Pippa acts. I know that you were closer to Priscilla than you claim." Emma flinched at the mention of both Pippa and Priscilla. "Look. I'm not in this for Priscilla, to be honest."

Emma turned an untrustful eye on Lily.

"I'm here for _you_ ," said Lily quietly. "I know you're hurting. I know there are so many things you want to say. I know you want someone to just _listen_."

"You don't know anything," The voice had not been Emma's. Lily turned around and found another blonde glaring at her. Her hair was tied back into a long ponytail that swished back-and-forth as she marched up to Emma. "I don't know what you're up to Lily Evans, but it needs to stop. _Leave us out of it_."

Lily laughed. "I was _trying_ to leave you out of it. But, alas—"

Pippa scowled, grabbing Emma's forearm in a well-manicured grip. "You think you're so perfect. You think that because you're Lily Evans, everything you do must be the right thing to do," spat Pippa. "Newsflash: you don't know anything about us. You only care about _yourself_ and how great helping the poor little Ravenclaws would make you look. Leave. Us. Alone."

With that, Pippa turned on her heel and stomped away, with Emma in tow. The tiny blonde spared a glance back at Lily, frowned, and turned to follow Pippa. The redhead watched them go silently, releasing a puff of air as they turned the corner. " _Fuck_ ," she cursed, leaning up against the cool stone wall beside her.

"Language," scolded the statue beside her.

Lily directed a glare upon the statue. "Oh, shove off."

It had been about two weeks since Lily had first spoken to Emma Bridgewater. Against her better judgment, she couldn't stop herself from trying to talk to her again. Lily couldn't reconcile leaving someone to suffer on their own. And Emma Bridgewater _was_ suffering, no matter how much the Ravenclaw girls denied it. Lily wanted to help. She didn't know why exactly, but it felt right, like when puzzle pieces click together.

"Lily Evans?"

The girl in question looked up, meeting blue eyes. She smiled. "Hey, Ashton," she offered. In her frustration, she'd plopped to the ground in front of the statue. Ashton came to sit beside her. "How do you convince someone who doesn't want help that they need it?"

He gave her an odd look. "I'm not sure," he confessed, "I suppose there's no use in helping someone who doesn't want it."

Lily sighed. "How tragic."

They fell into silence. Then, Ashton began, "You knew my brother, right?" Lily looked towards him, eyes wide. _He'd found out_. "I mean, you said his name when we first met...so I assumed. Perhaps not."

"No, I...I knew of h-him," said Lily, clearing her throat. "We were acquainted." _Shacking it up on the Hogwarts Express counts as acquainted…_

"Oh, well, what I'm trying to say is that…" Ashton looked from the floor to the ceiling to Lily in quick succession, all while gnawing at the inside of his cheek. "My brother had _problems_. He drank far too much. And he got into fights. Halfway through last summer, he owed so much money to some _guy_ that he stole our mother's jewelry to pay it back."

Lily paled. " _Oh_."

Ashton rubbed at a speck of dirt on his shoes. "I begged him to stop. I wanted to help him. I wanted it to go back to how it used to be. But, the more I pushed him to listen to me, the less he tried," he explained. "And so I stopped. I just...let it go. I thought that he'd come to me, eventually. Then, I woke up one morning and he was gone. He'd packed his stuff and just...gone."

Everything about the moment was distracting. The distant _tick_ of a clock. The licks of red hair that Lily caught in her peripheral vision. The angle of Ashton's jaw and the curve of his lips. The voice in her head that screamed, _It was you. You did that. You awful, stupid little girl._ But, despite the million things pulling at the edges of her mind, Lily trained her focus on the words coming from his mouth. She listened because that's what she knew how to do best. And yet, the only clever thought that came out was: "I'm sorry."

His lips, pressed tightly together, cracked into a wide smile. "What for?"

"I don't know," sighed Lily, "it's just what people say in these situations."

Ashton watched her carefully. "What I'm trying to get at is that you can't stop trying. You cry and scream and fight with them. And maybe sometimes you resent them. But, you don't let them go. Because, what if they leave?"

Lily fiddled with the ring around her finger. "Thank you," she said at last. Then, she stood and helped Ashton to his feet with a smile. "I better go," she said, gesturing to a distant staircase, "I'm going to be late as it is."

"Okay," he said quietly, lips quirked into a just-there grin. Lily waved and began to walk out, when he called, "And Lily, if you need me, I'll be around." It wasn't something she needed to respond to, she knew that, and so she just smiled and nodded. Ashton was good. He was constant. And he was so very much not like his brother. Lily felt warm all over, even with the nagging thought of Emma in the back of her mind and the fear of what James would say if he found out about what she'd been doing.

/ / /

"You can do better than that, Black!" screamed Alice from the stands. Even from so far away, she could see Sirius' careful glare. "If you could hit the bludger, then maybe I wouldn't have to yell!"

Behind her, Marlene sucked on a sugar quill. "Don't you have Auror duties?"

Alice turned around, eyes narrowed. "Mind your own business, McKinnon," she said sourly. Marlene wrinkled her nose. She turned her head to watch Lily skirt between the benches, settling down when she had reached the seat beside Marlene. "I had a _very_ bad day if you must know. That Frank Longbottom. He'll be the death of me, yet."

"What did you do now?" said Lily, stealing a sugar quill from Marlene's bag. She didn't even bother to protest the theft. Alice, meanwhile, looked affronted.

" _I_ didn't do anything, I'll have you know," she said. "Frank got all funny because I didn't make a report of an incident I'd had with a student."

Marlene sat forward. "An incident with a student? Do tell."

"I'm not a slag if that's what you're thinking this is about," Alice shot back. "And I can't tell you, anyway. Some confidentiality garbage. Or so Frank says."

Lily sighed, propping her feet up on the bench in front of her. "You know, Frank isn't half-bad once you get to know him," she said, "he was very nice to me when he went to school here." Alice rolled her eyes and made to retort, but the attention of all three girls had been drawn to the flailing form of one James Potter, circling high above.

His screams were audible even from far below. "Can't you focus? What's wrong with the lot of you? We have tryouts on Sunday and you're all playing like this is fucking new!" he hollered, voice hoarse. "The way things are going, the whole effing lot of you will be replaced come Sunday."

"Don't be unfair, Potter," argued Jonah Nix.

James threw his hands into the air. "I wouldn't _have_ to be if you all got your heads in the game."

Mary scowled. "We've been practicing day-and-night for five days, Potter!"

"You're tired?" James asked evenly. His change of tone surprised them all, so no one spoke. He licked his chapped lips and dragged a hand through his hair. "Fine, off the pitch, then."

"Prongs, mate,"

James stiffened, glaring at Sirius. "Go rest, then. It's what you all wanted." He took off into a tight, controlled dive, landing heavily on the ground and shoving his broom underneath his arm before marching into the locker room. None of them missed the sound of the door slamming. One of the fourth years on the team, Gemma Schmidt, looked around at the older team members, teary-eyed, "D-Does that mean we've b-been kicked off the team? B-But, I p-practiced so h-hard over the s-summer."

Hair wild from the wind, Dorcas petted the girl's hair kindly. "Of course not," she said, "he's just angry, right now. Let him be."

This excuse did not keep Sirius from rocketing into the locker room, the door slamming behind him, as well. They heard shouting from within, but no one was brave enough to walk in on a fight between those two. From the stands, Marlene waved to Mary and Dorcas. The two waited as their friends, accompanied by Alice, made their way onto the Quidditch pitch. "What the hell was that?" exclaimed Marlene as they approached.

"That's Quidditch Captain James," said Alice, "are you unfamiliar?"

Mary shook her brown locks free from the tie she'd placed them in. "No, that's Quidditch Captain James Stage 2. He's different this year," she said while combing her fingers through her tangled hair. "I mean, James was always a terror on the pitch, but now he's just a loose cannon."

"To be fair," said Dorcas, who had been inspecting her broom, "we've all changed."

Alice grinned. "Ah, the joys of growing up," she said before looking down at a peculiar watch upon her wrist. She groaned. "I've to be off. Duty calls." Waving, Alice jogged off the pitch in the direction of the castle.

They all watched her go. "Why was she down here, anyway?" asked Mary.

"She's Alice, that's why," answered Lily, laughing. They all hummed their approval. "Shall we go back up to the castle, as well? I'm starved."

They set off once Mary and Dorcas had changed back into their uniforms. Lily took in the vast grounds as they walked. Hogwarts did not experience the seasons as the rest of the world did. At Hogwarts, each season was exceptionally beautiful. As September came to a close, the summer sunsets of Hogwarts were painted in shades of pink and marigold and the grass crunched softly underfoot. The sun disappeared behind the castle, its last rays casting shadows across the girls' faces. Everything looked more beautiful under a sunset at Hogwarts.

Two Aurors stood guard at the entrance to the castle, but they let the girls pass unquestioned. It was still early enough to permit traipses on the outside grounds, after all. The Entrance Hall was busy with students either meeting friends or on their way to supper. Lily watched the four Ravenclaw girls file through the hall and into the Great Hall. It seemed there would be no more chances today to talk to Emma Bridgewater. Lily followed her friends towards the Great Hall, talking about this-and-that.

"Miss Evans," said a sharp voice. The group stopped, rigid. Professor McGonagall stood just outside the doors to the Great Hall, hands clasped in front of her, looking very severely over the top of her glasses at the four of them. "If you have a moment, I'd like to speak with you."

If Lily was James or Sirius, she'd have said something clever. But, as it happened, she was not. So, she urged her friends to go on and approached the Professor. Minerva McGonagall was many things: intelligent, serious, and well-spoken to begin with. She was not, however, to be trifled with. As such, when she turned quickly on her heel and strode across the Entrance Hall, Lily followed her unquestioningly. In fact, Lily followed her all the way back to her office, silent and obedient, head ducked.

Of course, she knew what this was about. McGonagall rounded her desk and took a seat, sitting very rigidly. This wasn't Lily's first time in McGonagall's office. She watched as the Transfiguration professor almost mechanically set her wand down, placed a stack of parchment aside, and reached for a small ceramic bowl. McGonagall followed this same procedure every time. So, when she held out the ceramic bowl and offered, "Biscuit?" Lily was just as quick to decline the offer.

"I've been hearing _your_ name everywhere," said the professor, conjuring a cup of tea for herself. She took a sip before setting the cup down with a _clink_. "This wouldn't be unusual, Miss Evans, if it weren't complaints coming in."

"Complaint _s_?" cried Lily, "As in _plural_? _Complaints_?"

Professor McGonagall shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "Yes, it appears so," she said, folding her hands in her lap. "I've always been quite partial to you, Miss Evans, but I can't let this slide."

"Professor Wydalcus was out of line," argued Lily. "He turned Marlene's hard work to ash. He's silencing opinions that he doesn't agree with. He called the truth _inflammatory_. Excuse me, Professor, but this is absolutely unfair."

McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "Wydalcus? Evans, that is not why I brought you here. I could care less about the complaints of Willard Wydalcus," said McGonagall tersely. "The complaints for which you were brought here are far more important than speaking out in class," she went on and Lily tensed, "Miss Evans, why have you been tormenting the young Miss Emma Bridgewater?"

"I— _what_?"

"Miss Parsimoni came to me to voice her concerns. And I _am_ concerned," said McGonagall. Her eyes did not betray a single emotion. They simply bore into Lily and the guilt rose in her throat like bile. She had just wanted to help. Something had seemed so clearly wrong, and yet…

Lily bit her lip. "I'm sorry, Professor, I was out of line."

"This is most unlike you, Miss Evans,"

"I know," confessed Lily, feeling hotness rise from her neck to her scalp. "I know and I'm ashamed. I shouldn't...I shouldn't have done that and I'm very sorry. I was just curious. I thought...that I could help."

The professor sighed, taking another sip of her scalding tea. "I'll have to ask you to no longer approach Miss Bridgewater. She's quite shaken, you see. If you can do that much, then I'm sure this can all be smoothed over," said McGonagall. Lily nodded, glancing down at her hands. "Off you go, then, Evans."

"Thank you, Professor," she said quietly, standing.

She'd nearly made it to the door when McGonagall spoke again, "And Evans...don't take it to heart. These things happen." Lily looked back at McGonagall and managed a smile.

"Yes," she said, "yes, I suppose they do."

/ / /

Summer morphed into autumn in a flurry of fallen leaves and harsh winds. The students met the colder weather with thick jumpers and scarves, escaping into the chill of autumn as soon as their classes let out for the day. James passed the weeks in the air, his dedication to Quidditch surpassing almost every other aspect of his life. It was distracting. The cool air whipped his face and he forgot about his mother's inquiry, the girl who went missing, and the blaze of red hair he couldn't seem to escape.

But, on that day, he couldn't escape any of those things.

"Potter," came her lilting voice. She was bundled up in a thick scarf and her hair was brighter than a changing leaf, a startling contrast against the brown of the Quidditch pitch. She approached him with her hands shoved deep into her pockets, the wind whipping her hair into a blaze.

James dismounted, sighing, "Evans."

"I have to show you something," she said.

The Quidditch Captain raised an eyebrow. "At least buy me dinner first," he jested but was met only with a scowl. Lily waited for him to put his broom away and change. He emerged from the locker room to Lily clicking her mary-janes against the ground, impatient. She grabbed his arm and dragged him towards the castle. "A little explanation would be nice, Evans."

"Look, I might be a hypocrite," said Lily, at last, stopping in the Entrance Hall. James raised his eyebrows but she ignored him and continued, "I know that I told you to stop poking into the Priscilla Goodwin case. And I had no intention of looking into it anymore, either."

"You didn't—"

Lily spoke over him, "I couldn't let that poor girl suffer alone."

James wrenched free of her hand, which was still on his forearm. He turned his back to her, fingers tangling into his hair. "You _told_ me not to. And I _listened_. God, for once, I _listened_!"

"Look on the bright side, now we know you can,"

"Now is not the time for jokes, Evans," warned James. He wasn't angry or even annoyed. He was frustrated. He'd spent weeks directing his attention elsewhere to avoid trouble, only to have lost valuable time in doing so. Lily watched him expectantly as she took her scarf off. He glanced around, sighing, then took Lily by the elbow and guided her up the stairs. "We can't talk here," he explained at Lily's panicked glance.

They ascended staircase after staircase in silence, broken only by out-of-breath pants and intermittent grumbles from James. At last, they reached the Astronomy Tower. Lily stiffened. She hadn't been to the Astronomy tower since the year prior, the night of the DADA examination. She cast an angry glance in James' direction, he either ignored it or didn't notice.

"I let it go," said Lily, leaning against a railing. She didn't look at James, her eyes trained on the horizon instead. "Pippa Parsimoni made McGonagall tell me off, so I let it go. I was convinced that I'd imagined everything and scared of McGonagall's wrath so I stopped poking around. I hadn't looked into anything for weeks, until this morning."

James watched her profile: the tightening of her jaw and the way the darkening sky turned her eyes an inky shade of green. Lily sighed at length, reaching into her pocket. She withdrew a folded, worn sheet of paper. Unfolding it, she revealed a picture.

"This morning I was in the library with Ashton," she said, handing the picture to James, "and he told me how downcast the mood in Ravenclaw has been since Priscilla Goodwin disappeared. He found this picture a few days ago and said how sad it was to see what they used to be like."

Lily pointed to a face at the bottom edge of the picture. The girl smiled, blinking innocently. She waved at the camera before turning to the girl beside her and giving her a large hug. The two beamed at each other. "That's Priscilla Goodwin and Emma Bridgewater," whispered James, watching the two girls in awe. They waved back at him.

"Emma told me that they weren't really friends," said Lily, eyes on James. "Every time I went to talk to her, she would deny their friendship. All while trembling at the mention of her name. Why would she do that?"

"It could be the trauma of losing a friend," offered James, at least trying to be logical.

"That's what I thought," Lily continued, turning back towards the sky, "but I lost a friend, too. And it didn't...it's not like that. She wasn't trembling from sadness, she was trembling with fear."

James eyed the picture once more, scanning the faces of the smiling Ravenclaws. He found the other three Ravenclaw girls, looking equally elated just behind Priscilla and Emma. "I know this is a lot coming from me," began James, "but we shouldn't jump to conclusions. Everyone experiences grief differently. I do think Priscilla is out there, but who says it's connected to these girls."

Lily looked at James appraisingly, seeming almost impressed. Then, "I thought so, too. But, then I saw Emma Bridgewater today. At lunch, she accidentally hiked her sleeve up and…" Lily glanced down at the picture. "There were bruises all along her arm."

James winced.

"I can't talk to the teachers or Aurors about it because they're all aware of my Emma-probation," sighed Lily. "Our friends aren't really...caught up on the details of this mess. What I'm getting at is that you were the only person I could go to."

"Jeez, thanks, Evans,"

They sat in silence for a moment. "I'm afraid," said Lily, "I'm afraid that if I let things be, someone else is going to go missing or get hurt. I can't let that happen." She looked over at James, whose hazel eyes met her green eyes after a while. "I can't forgive you for everything you did to me in the past. I don't hate you, but I can't forget, either. But, just this once, could we work together?"

James swallowed thickly. He fiddled with his watch, his gaze wandering. Lily hadn't taken her eyes off of him, so perhaps that was it. He felt nervous. "We're going to figure things out," he said finally and she released a breath. But, then, turning his back to her, he said, "I won't apologize for what happened last year, Evans."

"I'm not asking you to,"

/ / /

"You _stole_ a document from the Ministry!" Lily exclaimed, half-laughing. "You're insane."

James smiled. "Ah, you've called me worse, Red."

Lily was glad that his back was turned so that he hadn't seen her flinch. She should have left. It was too cold to be out on the Astronomy Tower and she wouldn't make it back in time for dinner. But, she'd stayed, anyway. She didn't know what to expect, but she'd stayed. "Your mom takes _you_ to work," she chuckled, "I can't imagine what your family might be like, Potter."

"Nothing like me, if that's what you're wondering," he said. He couldn't stop playing with his watch. Lily kept getting distracted by his fingers, fiddling with the knobs of the watch. She directed her attention back to his face when he spoke again, "My parents are old. They had me late after years of trying. You could call me a miracle."

He smiled and Lily swatted at him, rolling her eyes.

"My mother's an Auror. Although, she doesn't do field work anymore. And they have her under inquiry, for reasons unknown. As for my dad, he owns a company...Boring stuff," explained James. "Things are quiet at our house. Or, they were until Sirius moved in."

Lily raised an eyebrow. "Sirius moved in?"

James nodded. "This past summer," he said and opened his mouth to say more, but quickly shut it as if thinking it better not to. "And your family?" James asked, turning his back to her again. Lily's gaze trained on the stars, her fingers encircling the icy railing. James turned at her silence.

"There's not much to tell," she said quietly, at last, meeting his hazel gaze. "They're Muggles, after all."

James' brows furrowed. "Being a Muggle doesn't make someone boring, Evans."

She rolled her eyes. "I know that, Potter," she responded, "it's just that my family isn't so different from any other family, I suppose. I have a mother, a sister...I had a father." James looked horrified. Lily laughed despite herself, "Don't make that face, Potter, it's not the end of the world. Parents die, you know."

Affronted, he replied, "I-I know. It's just...Well, I don't know, Evans. I didn't know."

"It's not something I advertise," she said softly. "He died of lung cancer. I suppose you wouldn't quite know what that is, though, being a Pureblood." Lily climbed onto the middle rung of the railing, it whined beneath her. James watched her wearily, his own hands moving to grip the railing tightly. "It's a disease. Terminal."

James shoved his hands back into the pockets of his trousers.

Lily smiled, albeit bitterly. "He knew he was dying, Potter. It was...expected. When I left for school that year, I knew I might come back fatherless," she said. James' eyes were intent, focused. He scanned every line of Lily's face: the creases at the edge of her mouth, the furrow of her brow, the changing hue of her eyes. "But, that's me. That's my family."

"I heard your sister and you don't…"

"No, we don't get along," said Lily sharply, "she chose her path, I chose mine."

James' frown deepened. "I never thought I'd say this, but you sound exceptionally like Sirius."

"He has a sister he hates, too?" laughed Lily, looking up.

James laughed, as well, but shook his head. "No, no. A brother. I mean, I suppose there's Bellatrix, but she's barely his cousin, let alone his sister." When Lily didn't respond, he withdrew a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. The tiny white box caught Lily's attention, which had drifted back to the stars, and she watched as James tore it open and propped a cigarette into the corner of his mouth. Seeing her, James held out the box, "Want one?"

There was a moment in which she stared at the fragrant box. Then, she broke into laughter: the full, hearty kind. James stared at her, searching her face and the image of his outstretched hand for the joke that he hadn't caught. "No," she said mirthfully, wiping tears from her eyes. "God, Potter, if I didn't know better, I would've thought you'd missed our entire conversation."

"Why?"

Lily smiled, quieting, and plucked the box from James' still-outstretched hand. "Cigarettes are the leading cause of lung cancer," she replied, meeting his gaze. His jaw dropped, the cigarette falling from his lips and tumbling down to the depths of the castle grounds below. His hands found his hair, where he pulled at the black locks in frustration.

"I didn't know," he said frantically. Lily laughed.

"I know," she replied and climbed off of the railing. James watched her walk around the observatory, disappear, and then reappear a minute later. She did this a few times until, at last, she stopped and sighed. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you that I was talking to Emma," she said, stuffed her hands into her pockets, and rounded the observatory again. When she appeared, she stopped again, and added, "But, in my defense, you can be a prat about these things."

James smiled. And Lily did, too. James leaned back against the railing to watch her circle the observatory again, pause, open her mouth to say something, but keep walking instead. When she disappeared from sight, James finally spoke, "Why are you talking to Asher Kipling's little brother?"

Lily was frowning when she reappeared. "Because I want to," she said evenly, pausing to appraise James reaction. He offered none. "I don't know why you care."

"I don't," said James as she disappeared once again. "I just think that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree." This time, she reappeared with a scowl.

"Wasn't it _you_ who said that your family is nothing like you," countered Lily. This time, she stopped right before disappearing behind the tower and turned back around. She marched towards James. "Why is it that every time we're able to tolerate the presence of one another for an extended amount of time, _you_ have to muck it up?"

James turned his back on her. "Why is that _I_ can't express concern without you jumping down my throat?"

"Because we're not friends!" shrieked Lily. Her green eyes were electric. "I agreed to work with you. I decided to talk with you because it seemed like the right thing to do. But, you...you tortured me for _years_. You made me look like an idiot, like a villain. Don't you know how much people _hated_ me because of you? And if you hadn't...if you hadn't…"

"Don't say it," James warned.

But, Lily had already jumped. "If you hadn't antagonized Snape last year, then I wouldn't have lost my best friend!" she screamed. It wasn't true. She knew it, perhaps James didn't. But, she didn't like being questioned, and she didn't like the insinuation that Ashton was anything like Asher. And James Potter didn't have the right.

So, Lily exploded.

"I'm going to leave," said James, "I'm going to leave before you ruin everything."

And he did.

/ / /

"Why do boys always wait outside for Lily but never for me?" complained Mary as she entered the dorm. Lily looked up from her notebook, watching the brunette flounce over to her vanity. Then, sitting down, she regarded Lily: "Someone's waiting for you outside of the portrait hole."

Lily sighed and looked back to her notebook. "I'm not talking to him."

Mary raised an eyebrow. "What did Ashton Kipling do to you?"

"Ashton?" Lily said, looking up again. "I thought you were talking about...Oh, nevermind." She got up and slipped on a pair of slippers. "I'll be right back," she called upon leaving the dorm and her three roommates grunted in approval. It wasn't late, so it was to be expected that the common room would still be alive with activity.

Fourth years played Gobstones in a far corner while upperclassmen lounged in the plush seats closest to the fire. Among the upperclassmen were the Marauders, including one James Potter. They had avoided each other, successfully, for three days. They still needed to work together, but with neither one willing to forgive the other, their partnership had been delayed for the time being. It was a testament to their childishness, perhaps. Or to their Gryffindor pride.

Lily whisked past James and towards the portrait hole, which swung open easily to reveal Ashton Kipling. "You're here," he said as if surprised. Lily watched an Auror stride past the end of the corridor. She pulled Ashton into an alcove a few feet away, afraid of being caught out and about after curfew.

"You're out past curfew," responded Lily, "I should dock points."

Ashton laughed; Lily shushed him. "I have a reason, Lily Evans," he said. The way her name came off his tongue made her shiver. She held her arms tighter against her. "I would have asked you earlier, but you keep running at the sight of me," Ashton explained. Lily wanted to tell him that it wasn't his fault that every time she saw him she heard James Potter's voice: _the apple doesn't fall far from the tree_.

"Go on," said Lily, glancing around to make sure there was no one patrolling around the corner. Ashton took a deep breath.

"You want to talk to Emma Bridgewater, that much seems clear," he said and smiled. Lily didn't agree but motioned for him to go on. "And I want to take you to Hogsmeade. So, let's kill two birds with one stone," he went on. Lily blinked, her heart hammered painfully. Even his confidence was like Asher's. _No_ , Lily thought _, stop that_. "What I mean is, there won't be teachers around to keep you from talking to Emma. And I know how to get her away from her friends. And, as an added bonus, you could come with me to Hogsmeade."

"You want to go to Hogsmeade?" asked Lily. "To help me?"

Ashton smiled bashfully. "Yes, well," he began, "and to spend time with you. But, again, two birds with one stone." Lily snorted rather unattractively.

"Well," she said, "when you put it that way, it's a difficult offer to pass up."

"If I throw in a free Butterbeer, does that make the offer irresistible?"

Lily smiled, "Quite."

And it was by these circumstances, as well as a few more unsavory ones, that Lily found herself in a carriage along with Ashton, Dorcas, and James, bound for Hogsmeade.

* * *

 _A/N;_ I'm back! So, I took a break to concentrate on my exams (which went well, yay!) but that break ended up lasting _far_ longer than I intended. Granted, I did warn you all that I'm terrible at continuous updates.

I wanted to address your comments, as I don't think I've done that up to this point. So, to all of you that have expressed your excitement for the story (several guests, brongsandbrofoot, and GreenandWhite): thank you!

I hope you enjoyed this update. I have a feeling that you'll very much enjoy Chapter 6. I've also gotten some comments regarding the behavior of Alice. Now, my intention was _not_ to make Alice appear abusive in any way. If she has come off that way, then I'm _so_ sorry, I understand how that can be upsetting. My intention was to make Alice seem like a rough-and-tumble older sister-type and I modeled her behavior off of people that I know (who, I assure you, are not abusive). If you all believe that her behavior leans more towards abusive, then I will absolutely change the scenes in question. But, on a lighter note, thank you _so_ much for your support...it honestly makes my day!

With that said, feel free to follow, favorite, and review! Until next time…[SIGNED, SAM]

P.S. Would anyone be interested in a playlist of the music that inspires this fic?

 _Disclaimer_ : I wish I was smart enough to invent all of this...but, nope, Harry Potter isn't mine.


	7. Chapter 6

_And that day, we pretended_.

* * *

If she thought hard enough, she could remember that day. It was April: rainy, dreary, and humid as ever. Dorcas shook raindrops from her untameable hair and followed her mother into a sparsely decorated foyer. The whole house smelled of pumpkin pasties. She would only later learn that those were the boy who lived there's very favorite sweet. His mother baked them often, just for him. Her mother fussed over her, straightening out her dress and brushing dust from her stockings. "You must be on your very best behavior, darling," instructed Ida Meadowes.

Dorcas nodded. She held her father's—Guthrie Meadowes—pinky finger tightly. He guided her into a wide dining room, set with fine dishware and filled with even finer people. At the head of the table sat a mousy-haired woman with hard, yet unabashedly beautiful, features. At her side stood a man with a greying beard, large spectacles, and a wide, crooked smile. On the other side of the table sat another woman, whose hair was cropped short, beside a man with a receding hairline and a goofy expression on his face. Two children ran around the base of the table, one startlingly dark-haired, the other very blonde. Their faces were spotted with freckles from days in the sun.

"Ida, Guthrie," greeted the woman at the head of the table, standing. Dorcas' parents pulled her along to greet the woman. Her father pried his pinky from Dorcas' grasp in order to shake hands with everyone around the table. The beautiful woman knelt down and smiled a straight-toothed smile at her. "And this must be little Dorcas," she said by way of greeting.

The small girl could only blink.

When prompted, Dorcas stuck out her small hand to shake the adults' bigger hands. The children had stopped running around the table, halting behind the legs of their parents to peer out at the new, unfamiliar child. "Alice, say hello to Dorcas," instructed the goofy-looking man. Dorcas looked in the direction of the too-blonde girl.

"That's an odd name," said the too-blonde girl named Alice. Dorcas flushed and the girl's parents scolded her. She shrugged and ran from the room, her parents cursing under their breath in her wake. When Dorcas turned back around, she found the scrawnier, messy-haired boy had come out from behind his parents' legs to stare at her.

"I'm James," he said. It felt more like a warning than an introduction, even to a young Dorcas.

An older Dorcas wondered how she'd come to befriend the messy-haired boy and rude, too-blonde girl. Perhaps it was just because they were kids, at the time, and that's what kids do. She wondered, also, if she would have still befriended them had she been older. It wasn't a question she thought about often, but it was a valid one nonetheless.

Regardless, Dorcas found that it was undeniably this first encounter with a young James Potter and Alice Fortescue that had landed her in her current predicament. That's just how fate works, she thought, locking eyes with a displeased looking redhead. It seemed there wasn't a person in their carriage that would have elected to be there, had it not been for fate.

"Nice weather," commented Ashton Kipling, rather oblivious.

Dorcas grinned. "Yes," she agreed, "the Autumn is always so nice here."

They watched the trees roll by in bursts of red, orange, and yellow. The wheels of the carriage crunched the fall brown leaves underneath. "So," Ashton continued, "I didn't know you and James were dating."

Lily cleared her throat. "They're not."

"Ah, sorry," he said, reddening. "I just assumed…"

They quieted again, each finding the passing view more exciting than any conversation they could possibly have together. Lily sent Dorcas a severe look, she returned an apologetic one. It hadn't been her intention to end up in a carriage with Lily, Ashton, and James.

In fact, it hadn't even been her intention to go to Hogsmeade with James.

She was again reminded of fate and the indisputable role her early friendship with James and Alice played in the events leading up to that moment. 

"Anyone have a hot date to Hogsmeade?" asked Mary a few mornings before.

Lily had proceeded to choke on the piece of toast she'd taken a bite of. Marlene slammed a fist into her back, which seemed to help her, but also resulted in a very sour look from Lily. "Thanks," she bit, glaring. Marlene cheerily assured her that it was no problem at all.

Eventually, Peter answered: "I do. I'm going with a fifth year from Hufflepuff."

Mary clapped her hands together. "That's wonderful, Peter. Who is it?" exclaimed Mary, nearly leaning across the table to hear him better. He explained that it was Phoebe Dunwich, who he had met through an exceedingly curious incident that he went on to recount to an enthralled Mary. Meanwhile, Sirius scooted closer, accidentally rubbing arms with Dorcas, who glared at him.

"I'm taking Perpetua Ryan,"

Marlene dry-heaved. "Oh, please," she cried, " _don't_ tell."

"We're going to shag later, too," Sirius went on, grinning. Marlene through a piece of toast at his head, scowling. "At least I _have_ a date. Are you still waiting on Jonah Nix to ask you?"

Marlene's fists went white. "Piss off, Sirius," she spat, standing and stomping out of the Great Hall.

"That was very unfair of you," said Lily, spreading more jam onto her toast. She preferred apricot jam over strawberry jam, remembered James, who was sitting next to Sirius. "And, anyway, I know you're not going with Perpetua. She's been talking about going with that Ravenclaw prat for days."

Sirius winked at her. "Minor details, Ginger."

Lily rolled her eyes, narrowly met James' eyes, and turned determinately to Dorcas. "And you, Dorcas? Have any plans?" she asked. For a moment, it looked as if she would ignore Lily, in favor of the book she was reading. But, after finishing a line, she marked her page and looked up at Lily, frowning.

"Why ask when you know the answer?" she responded.

"That's also not fair," said Lily, matching her frown. "You used to go on Hogsmeade dates."

Dorcas tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. It popped back out a few seconds later. "Yes, well, that was _before_ certain things happened," she reminded Lily, reopening her book. A hand extended down to seize the book from her. Affronted, she looked up to meet the honey-eyed gaze of one Alice Fortescue, who shoved Sirius aside and sat beside Dorcas.

"Are we talking about how much we hate Keaton Ledbury? Oh, I _do_ love that topic."

"No," said Dorcas firmly, making a grab for her book. Alice passed it down to Sirius, who examined it thoroughly. The Chaser stared at him icily, and demanded, "Book. Back. Now."

Sirius grinned up at her. " _Defy Not the Heart_ ," read Sirius mockingly, "'Reina seethes with rage over her fate...'" Dorcas lunged for her book once more. "Did Evans buy you _more_ Muggle novels?" laughed Sirius, now standing to keep the book from Dorcas' grasp. She was quite tall, but not tall enough to steal the book back.

She scowled at her friends, declaring, "You're all _awful_."

Sirius tossed the trashy novel to James, who caught it and quickly turned it over the continue reading the description. "You really should read something better than this," said James through laughter. "I mean, this is... _wow_."

"If you're desperate for action, just go to Hogsmeade with James," said Alice, giggling. "Gryffindor boys never disappoint." It was then that a looming shadow fell over Alice, who frowned instantly, adding, "Well, not _all_ Gryffindor boys." She turned around to look at the lanky form of Frank Longbottom. "Hullo, Longbottom."

"Fortescue," he greeted, in turn. "We're not students, anymore, in case you didn't remember."

"Hardy har, Frank," said Alice, following him out of the dining hall. "I hadn't realized."

Left to themselves, the Gryffindor sixth years quieted considerably. Alice was, and had always been, the source of much commotion. "Well, with that," said James, "Dorcas, shall we go to Hogsmeade?"

" _What_?" chorused Sirius, Lily, and of course, Dorcas herself.

"As _friends_ ," amended James. "Jeez, I'm not trying to shag. I'd just rather go with someone than without someone," he explained. Lily scowled at him, finding that to be a poor reason to ask someone to Hogsmeade. And, additionally, the proposal had brought several poor memories to mind of his proposals to _her_. "And anyway, if Keaton Ledbury tries to start anything, you'll have me."

Dorcas grimaced, finally retrieving her book, which she shoved promptly into her bag. "As tempting as that sounds," she said, standing, "I don't need someone to protect me from my ex-boyfriend."

James, however, persisted, following her from the Great Hall. "Dorcas, we're friends," he said, struggling to keep up with her quick pace. "I've known you longer than I've known Sirius," he went on, "think about how much fun we could have! We can go to Honeydukes and the Three Broomsticks and…."

"I'm not interested," shrieked Dorcas, suddenly understanding how Lily must have felt.

When it seemed as if James had given up, he grabbed her arm, forcing her to a stop. "Dorcas," he panted. "I want to keep an eye out on things and I need your help so I don't look suspicious."

"Oh, I see," said Dorcas, laughing. James smiled. "You're out of your mind." James' smile fell just as quickly as it came. Defeated, he watched Dorcas walk away, muttering curses under her breath. He knew there was nothing that would convince her. Nothing, except…

"Dorcas, wait!" 

"Climb up that tree," said Alice. She was eleven and beautiful, even though her front teeth had come in crooked and she had yet to grow into her ears. James had already strode over to the largest tree in his yard and rolled up his sleeves. Dorcas stood with her arms over her chest, frowning at the expectant Alice and idiotic James.

"I am not climbing that tree," she said firmly.

Alice looked at her, appalled. "You have to! I told you to! I'm older!" demanded the blonde, frowning. She was eleven, well-off, and not used to not getting her way. Dorcas shook her head. She would not do it. She wasn't _stupid_. James, however, who had already started climbing the tree, was questionable. "Come on, Dorcas, just do it!"

The ten-year-old eyed the tree, looked back to Alice, and shook her head. "I'm not doing it," she said, with finality. The blonde sighed, wrinkling her nose.

Then, Alice smiled in the way that Alice always smiled before something terrible happened. "What are you... _scared_?" she said. Dorcas looked at the tree again and grimaced.

"No," she said, defiantly.

Alice watched Dorcas carefully. "Then, climb the tree." 

"I can't believe I let you trick me into this," said Dorcas, sticking her hands into the pockets of her jeans. "I don't know who's the bigger idiot, you or me."

James snorted. "You're the one who can't stand to be called scared."

"Fair enough," replied Dorcas, glancing at James from the corner of her eye. The muted blue of his jacket drew out the specks of blue in his eyes. He was wearing his glasses. Dorcas could still remember the summer he'd gotten them. Getting him to actually wear his glasses had been a struggle throughout fifth year. Now, they were a part of him, blending just as easily into his character as his messy mop of black hair. "But," she continued lightly, "at least I'm not the one stalking Lily Evans."

"I am _not_ stalking Lily Evans," said James, dragging a hand through his hair. It was a nervous tick. Dorcas couldn't remember when James hadn't done it. "I'm watching her back."

"This isn't a spy novel, James," laughed Dorcas, "she's not going to get kidnapped."

Perhaps the joke was in poor taste, considering the state of Hogwarts. James laughed, anyway. Dorcas watched the ground, stepping on fallen leaves just to hear them _crunch_ satisfyingly underfoot. It was a habit she'd developed from Marlene, who took it to extremes by hopping into large piles of leaves whenever she had the chance. Her attention was drawn to James' old trainers—the very same ones he'd had for several years. He was too attached to buy new ones, although with the amount of money his family had, he could afford at least a dozen without breaking the bank. "What are your thoughts on Asher Kipling, then?"

"Do you mean Ashton?"

James smiled: "Both."

"Well, in case you didn't know," said Dorcas, " _you_ found out about the Asher-ordeal before any of us did. Except for Mary. But, well, she's Mary." James' complete attention was on her. This was a first: James never paid full attention to anything. He was the distracted sort: playing with the Snitch he kept while talking to friends or fiddling with his watch during classes. "Asher was a piece of work the likes of Keaton Ledbury. No wonder they were friends. But, and I believe this, Ashton is a nice kid. He's genuine. Oh, don't give me that look, James."

He looked like a kicked puppy, wide-eyed and frowning. "I'm glad," said James, fiddling with the band of his watch, "I really am. But, I don't understand."

"Don't understand what, exactly?"

"Lily," he responded, reaching a hand up to rub the back of his neck.

Dorcas let out a loud guffaw of laughter. "Oh, James, that's all of us."

They laughed over this for a while, but when their laughter died out, James was left scuffing his worn trainers into the ground as Dorcas watched a leaf float down from a tree above. "I spent years fawning over this girl that I don't even know," laughed James. "I mean, I just found out that her father passed away. I just found out that she had been seeing someone. And I don't feel like I wasted my time, but I feel like…"

"You spent it the wrong way?" offered Dorcas.

James nodded. "Exactly," he sighed. They had reached the Three Broomsticks. James held the door open for Dorcas, who pressed inside. She led the way towards the bar, where Madame Rosmerta sat chatting with a flirtatious Seventh Year Hufflepuff. She perked up at the sight of James, smiling coyly.

"If it isn't James Potter," she said in her thick, honey-rich accent. He smiled back at her, setting four sickles down on the bar. "Two Butterbeers?" she asked, to which he nodded, and she swept off to grab the drinks.

"Someone's a fan of yours," teased Dorcas, jabbing James in the side. In the crowded establishment, everyone was packed very tightly together. Their close proximity made Dorcas realize how close in height her and James were. In prior years, he'd been a touch shorter than her at some points and scrawny in comparison at other points. Now, he was just barely taller than her. When Madame Rosmerta returned with their Butterbeers, James grabbed them both, ushering Dorcas over to two empty bar stools. She sipped the beverage slowly, aware of its vaguely intoxicating effects (of course, that would only come after a _few_ mugs).

James downed half of his quickly. "It never really gets old," he said of the drink, examining the foamy, caramel-colored liquid in awe. "It reminds me of when you and Alice visited me over winter holiday in Second Year. We drank Butterbeer and ate Pumpkin Pasties until we were sick."

"And we destroyed you in that snowball fight," added Dorcas.

James scratched his temple and commented, "I don't quite remember that."

Their laughs were intoxicating and each one drew them deeper into a nostalgic trance. It was much easier to reminisce about the good days than to strive for more. It was in the middle of recounting one of James' first pranks that the bell above the door tinkled, the door opening just enough to admit two people and letting in a gust of chilled air in the process. Dorcas nudged James, who looked lazily over to find a blazing red-head weaving through the masses of people.

She nearly passed them, but James reached out and grabbed her arm. Lily wheeled around and at once exclaimed, "I was looking for you." Ashton had been trailing behind her but busied himself with ordering two Butterbeers while Lily talked to James. "We need to talk."

Lily didn't wait for his response before walking out, once again allowing in the cold October air. Offering a promise that he'd return shortly to Dorcas, James followed the bustling Prefect outside. James shoved his hands into his pockets, having forgotten the chill of the air while lodged in the cozy atmosphere of the Three Broomsticks. "What is it?"

"I talked to Emma Bridgewater," said Lily quickly. They shuffled to the far edge of the Three Broomsticks, stationing themselves at the edge of an alley. "It was brief," she elaborated, "and it wasn't pleasant, either."

"From what I understand, that's nothing new,"

The redhead cast him a reproachful look before continuing, "Emma didn't ask for me to be reported." James' brow furrowed.

"I suppose that means that Pippa Parsimoni acted of her own accord in reporting you," said James, "there must be something she doesn't want you to find out. Something that those girls, or perhaps just her, is hiding." Lily looked out across the busy village of Hogsmeade and sighed, rubbing her temple.

"There's nothing we can do unless Emma talks," Lily said, crestfallen, "we can't possibly go after Pippa without solid evidence that there's a reason to do so."

This was true. James added, "I doubt this girl would be so lazy to leave evidence about, either. After all, she is a Ravenclaw."

"Ravenclaws aren't perfect," said Lily hopefully.

James frowned. They were fishing for hope. It seemed that most people were doing that, nowadays, but that didn't make it any less sad. They stood there in silence that was neither comfortable nor uncomfortable—it just _was_. When Lily let out a loud puff of air, it seemed to mark the metaphorical end of their time together.

"I had better go back in," she said, jabbing her thumb back at the door. James nodded, fishing into his pocket for his cigarettes. "I'll—uh—see you around, Potter." With that, she left. James rounded the corner of the Three Broomsticks, retreating further into the alley, where it was safer to withdraw his Embassy's. There, lighting up, he stood for what may have been an eternity. Just him, the dull buzz of the village, and the curling smoke of his cigarette. James wasn't one for poetry, but with Lily Evans having left him to meet with another man and a cigarette between his lips, the moment felt poetic.

Finished with his cigarette, he plucked it from his lips and flicked it to the ground, still smoldering, smashing it into the cobblestone underfoot. "I don't understand," grumbled a voice from the end of the alley, towards the entrance of the Three Broomsticks. "It just doesn't make sense. _James Potter_. Of all people…"

James bristled at the sound of his name. It wasn't the kind of thing James enjoyed hearing thrown around. By the time he emerged into the light of the village, he'd already connected the dots as to the voice's owner. James emerged with his hair mussed and the smell of cigarettes on his clothes. Sure enough, Dorcas stood rigid in front of the familiar outline of Keaton Ledbury.

The thing about Keaton was that he hadn't seemed half-bad until he'd infiltrated their lives in fifth year. He wasn't on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, but he'd struck a conversation with James on a number of occasions over Quidditch. He was a Puddlemere fan, as well. And he had a clean look, complete with ironed trousers and American-made jumpers. Even his trainers were immaculate. James looked down at his own scuffed shoes for comparison.

But, the trick had come months after he'd begun to date Dorcas. Had any of them expected it, they wouldn't have let the relationship happen. Who could have expected that Keaton had an exploding temper, though? He didn't explode as Lily did, like a blaze you couldn't control. Keaton was like the atomic bombs the Muggles had: everything around him was obliterated when he exploded. And Dorcas was perpetually caught in the blast zone.

"Ledbury," said James, approaching. James Potter did not explode. His rage was the type that simmered, constantly, and boiled over only when you cranked the heat. His jaw felt tight, his hazel eyes amber in the Autumn sun. Keaton gave James a once over. "It's me," said James airily, " _of all people_ …"

Keaton paled considerably. "My issue isn't with you, Potter…"

"Ah, but you made it about me, you see," interrupted James, "as soon as you approached Dorcas."

The mentioned girl glanced over at James, her jaw tight. Dorcas was never afraid. Not of climbing large trees. Not of going to Hogsmeade with James Potter. And definitely not of short-tempered ex-boyfriends. "I'm fine, James," she said tersely, staring him down.

"See," Keaton sneered, "she's fine."

James scratched the top of his head with his thumb. _She's fine_ , he reminded himself and stepped back. Dorcas was a Chaser on _his_ team. Of course, she was fine. She was _Lily's_ friend. Of course, she was fine. But, he remembered the bruise on her cheek last year, and dare not take another step away. Keaton Ledbury had a nasty temper. Nasty enough to lash out at his girlfriend. "That said," Dorcas said, turning back to Keaton, "I don't want to talk to you. Ever. Including now."

The tall Ravenclaw loomed over Dorcas. "You don't know what you're passing up."

Dorcas snorted. "Believe me, the bruises you left know well enough," she shot back, smiling sweetly up at him. Rage sparked just behind his eyes. He breathed deeply. James rested his back against the exterior of the Three Broomsticks, removing the Snitch from his pocket and twirling the golden object between his fingers.

The thing about Dorcas was that her poise betrayed her rough exterior. She had come from a Pureblood family, after all. She sat up straight, her palate was refined, her wardrobe contained as many dress robes as it did regular jumpers. Even her mannerisms—the curt pleasantries, well-placed smile, and dry humor—gave away her upbringing. But, just as well, she was a Gryffindor. She didn't like to be known as scared, she got herself into trouble more often than the general populace, and she knew how to pluck up her courage.

In the way she stared down Keaton Ledbury, straight-backed and determined, her upbringing _and_ her nature were so apparent.

Keaton Ledbury's friends sidled up behind him, having exited the Quidditch supply store a moment earlier. James pushed himself off of the wall, alert. "I'm fine," warned Dorcas, sending James a stern look. It wasn't a question of whether she could truly handle things, but an issue of whether she could withstand the pressure.

"You said you'd never tell anyone," said Keaton lowly.

Dorcas shrugged. "I was younger, then. Stupider."

"There's four of us, Dorcas," Keaton warned, "do you trust that you alone can handle that? Or even with Potter?"

The Gryffindor witch smiled. "I don't need to trust. I know."

When Dorcas looked back at this moment, she wouldn't remember what happened first. This was due in large part to the concussion she'd sustain in the midst of the chaos. But, unquestioningly, she remembered the blow to her face. If it had been Keaton, she wasn't surprised. But, his grumbling friends in the back also provided a worthy case. The events that followed (and, to a degree, preceded) the blow to the head, however, would remain a blur.

The thing about James was that he had a temper, too. It wasn't explosive; it was boiling. This has been discussed. But, there's something about a temper that boils. It doesn't explode, sending shrapnel in all directions. No, it erupts, like a geyser. It's a straight blast that scalds, melting skin and muscle and leaving little more than a frame of what was a body. It was through this process that James' fist came to connect with Keaton Ledbury's notably handsome face at the same time that Sirius Black cracked the very same Keaton Ledbury over the head.

Because if James Potter was a geyser, then Sirius Black was a volcano.

James seized Dorcas by the arm and dragged her off at a sprint, Sirius just behind him. They howled with laughter. Dorcas, too, delirious and concussed, laughed along with them. Somewhere along the way, Remus and Peter had joined them, as well. All four Marauders, Dorcas dragged along with them, dashed for the safety of the castle. They were out of breath by the time they reached the lake, their pursuers left far behind. "O-Oh," said Dorcas, "when Alice said that Gryffindor boys never disappoint, I didn't realize…"

All four boys caught her as she wobbled, nearly falling backward. "Shit," James cursed "We need to get her to Pomfrey. He hit her so hard, I'm surprised her head didn't spin."

"I can't believe we punched him at the same time," said Sirius, excited. "That has to be one of the—" He paused to count on his fingers, "— _top ten_ coolest things we've ever done."

"Wait, _what_?" cried Remus. "You can't go around punching people, first of all. Second of all, _who_?"

Peter whined. "I left my date for this."

"Keaton Ledbury," replied James, the name sour on his tongue, "and I couldn't let him hit my Chaser and get away with it." They took turns carrying Dorcas back to the castle. Halfway there, James turned to Sirius. "How _did_ you get there, Padfoot?" Sirius smiled charmingly.

"I'm wherever you are, Prongsie," he began, but then quickly added, "and I'd just finished shagging Perpetua Ryan."

"You slag," cried James, laughing. He hoisted Dorcas onto Remus' back all the while. Sirius feigned bashfulness. "Do you think she'll be okay?"

Lagging behind, Peter nodded. "Sure, he couldn't have hit her that hard. He's Keaton Ledbury."

"Fair," laughed James, but grew serious, "but I didn't mean it like that."

Remus, through labored breaths, responded: "Even if she wasn't, she's Dorcas, I doubt she'd tell any of us." The group fell into silence. Sirius kicked at rocks, sending them flying ahead of them, while James meticulously examined a piece of parchment that happened to be the Marauder's most treasured possession. The last leg of the journey to the castle ahead, Remus transferred Dorcas unto the care of Peter. "Oh, blast," said Remus, still breathing heavily. "I have to go back to Hogsmeade, I've forgotten to buy parchment and I'm out."

The remaining three waved to their friend's receding form, already jogging back towards Hogsmeade. 

The butterbeer was getting to her head. She set down her third bottle, guiltily, and looked into the now-smudged blue eyes of Ashton Kipling. A giggle fell from her throat against her will and she turned away, blushing from the roots of her red hair. "You have to let me pay for some of these," she insisted, finally turning back to look at her date. Lily gestured to the bottles of butterbeer between the two of them. "It's not like this is cheap."

"It's a galleon, Lily," argued Ashton, but Lily was already fishing around in her pockets.

He took the sickles from her begrudgingly, amidst a triumphant grin from Lily. Full, they finally left the Three Broomsticks. The student population of Hogsmeade was dwindling, many having already begun the trek back to Hogwarts (which, as it happened, many students elected to do on foot). After all, the coming night brought a harsh chill to the air. Lily took the liberty to press closer to Ashton.

"Shall we finish up by going to Scrivenshaft's?" Ashton suggested, eyeing the worn sign above the door. Objectionless, Lily started towards the store, Ashton just behind her. The bell tinkled as they walked in, greeted by the friendly store owner and the scent of dried ink and parchment. "Look at this," Ashton pointed towards a display of fine quills, tipped with silver and ornately engraved. The redhead eyed them enviously, recalling the frequency with which she broke her quills. _Granted, James Potter usually has something to do with that_ , she thought, suppressing a smile.

Just as Ashton turned to examine the store's selection of inks, the bell above the door chimed again. Lily looked over to find an out of breath Remus standing beneath the opened door, trying to catch his breath. Despite the cold, a trickle of sweat ran down his temple. "Remus?"

He looked over, breaking into a grin. "Lily," he said by way of greeting and walked over, still panting. "I was all the way back at the castle, but I—" Remus seemed to only then notice Ashton, whose back was turned as he poked through the ink bottles on display, "—forgot to buy parchment. I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?"

"What?" Lily laughed, "No."

Remus glanced over at Ashton once more. "Well," he said, reaching over to grab a bundle of parchment, "I really must be going. I don't trust James and Sirius alone in the Hospital Wing, I'm afraid."

" _The Hospital Wing_?" replied Lily in a high voice. "What're they doing _there_?"

She'd followed Remus to the front counter. The tall boy grew nervous, then, and smiled weakly. "Oh, nothing," he said lamely. "Visiting Pomfrey? We _do_ love her company…"

" _Remus Lupin_ —" called Lily, but he'd already dashed out the door, the bell tinkling behind him. Ashton approached, looking between the swinging door and Lily's pinched face. He raised one eyebrow in a silent question. "Sorry," Lily responded, "just...Prefect business."

"Right," chuckled Ashton.

With Remus' rushed exit, Lily had grown anxious. "Look, do you mind if we head back now? Something's come up and I…"

"Of course," Ashton replied quickly, but pleasantly. His eyes crinkled at the edges when he smiled. It was endearing, Lily thought. "Just let me get this," He held up a bottle of ink and turned towards the employee. Lily stared impatiently, _angrily_ at the door. It wasn't fair, she decided. After a perfect day where everything had gone right with a (thankfully) perfect boy, James Potter had to come along and ruin it for her. Just _what_ he and Sirius Black had gotten themselves into, Lily didn't know.

But, God, she wished they'd saved it for another day. 

"Of all of the stupid, irresponsible, thoughtless—"

"' _Selfish things_ ,'" James finished in a high-pitched voice. "Yes, Evans, I'm aware."

Lily looked as though she might hex him for the comment but simply crossed her arms over her chest instead. "I can't believe I missed a chance to punch Keaton Ledbury," she said at last, eyeing the bruise forming on Dorcas' jawline. The group looked at her oddly and she rolled her eyes. "Oh, please, it's not that surprising. I've always said he was a prat."

"An _abusive_ prat," amended Marlene, twirling her wand between her fingers. "It's a shame that he got off with just a punch, what he deserves is…"

Dorcas sighed. "Let's just let this go…"

"Whaddya mean?" cried Sirius around a chocolate frog. Mary eyed the chocolate enviously. "You can't forgive something like that, Meadowes. Keaton Ledbury is a no good, very bad…"

" _Leave it_ ," shouted Dorcas.

Mary stood up, then, and began to herd the group out of the Infirmary doors, despite their complaints. At the doors, she turned around, catching a grateful look from Dorcas, before closing them after her. " _Mary_ ," whined Marlene.

The brunette cast the group a severe look before walking off in the direction of the Great Hall. "Well, come on," she called back to them, "supper will be over if we don't hurry."

The circumstances were different, but there was not a person who questioned that Mary understood Dorcas, at that moment, better than any of them could. It wasn't something people discussed in front of her. But, when Mary was not around, there were whisperings. There were people who remembered the day a Gryffindor girl had been found in the dungeons, half-dead.

It had been Mary, of course.

The thing about Mary MacDonald was that she had a habit of meeting boys in broom cupboards after hours. She tiptoed down into the dungeons that night, under the instructions of a boy she'd been seeing. No one knew how much he'd had to do with the events that transpired. In fact, no one _knew_ much of anything. The culprits were meticulous. The empty classroom had been swept clean, save for the bleeding half-corpse of the broken Mary MacDonald. There they left her, sobbing and swimming in-and-out of agonizing consciousness until she was found the next day.

Most people who suffer the Cruciatus curse for such an extended period are never themselves again.

But Mary, who was bright and vivacious and beautiful, was off-puttingly unchanged. To the world, it seemed that nothing had occurred at all within the demeanor of Gryffindor's Seeker. Even to her friends, Mary was aggravatingly the same. Her brown eyes held no trace of pain, fear, or vengeance.

It was only in moments like these, seconds after leaving their injured friend, that they noticed the tremor in her hand. But, just as always, it passed.

"Potatoes?" asked Mary, not ten minutes later, beaming over at Lily.

The redhead was distracted. There was a Ravenclaw eyeing her from his seat. Catching her gaze, he smiled, bashful, and looked down at the table. Lily's lips quirked into a smile. She didn't catch the multiple pairs of eyes on her. "Something's different, Evans," said Sirius, stuffing a broccoli floret into his mouth. "You're not usually this... _jubilant_."

Lily sent him a well-placed scowl. "You've been expanding your vocabulary."

Sirius glared; the rest of the Gryffindors laughed.

"He's not wrong, though," Marlene said, jabbing her fork at Lily. Remnants of mashed potato on her fork splattered across the table. "Suppertime is dark-and-brooding-Lily time."

"I am neither dark nor brooding," argued Lily, spooning more gravy onto her plate. She met and quickly averted James' gaze. He looked down at an old copy of _The Daily Rebel_ , scanning one of the articles diligently. "But," the redhead continued eventually, "I'll have you know that I had a very nice date with a _very_ nice Ravenclaw."

Mary looked up, giddy. " _Do_ tell."

At that point, Sirius, too, looked away. Peter and Remus remained relatively engaged, however, despite the harsh glances Sirius sent them. "An utter lack of loyalty, Prongs," whispered Sirius to James, who smiled, but did not look up from the newspaper. "What's that?"

"An utter lack of news on Priscilla Goodwin," James responded, sighing. He tossed the newspaper back to Marlene, who frowned. "Tell your sister to look into the Priscilla Goodwin case."

"First of all," said Marlene, "you don't tell me what to do." James rolled his eyes. "Second of all, there isn't enough information for an article on Priscilla Goodwin, anyway. The case has been cold since it began." 

The thing about Quidditch game days was that they were intoxicating, regardless of who was playing. "So, who are we rooting for?" screamed Lily over the roar of the crowd. The chants of the involved houses were thunderous, shaking the bleachers and sending the birds in nearby trees into the air. As for the sky, it was surprisingly clear, even after days of incessant rain. It seemed to everyone that the excitement of the day's festivities had brought good weather in tow.

"Slytherin," her friends screamed back. She stared at them incredulously.

Marlene dragged Lily closer, speaking directly in her ear. "We want Slytherin to win so that we get the chance to spank them in the Championship," she explained. Lily nodded, thinking the plan was rather roundabout, but trusting the intuition of her friends. "Plus," added Marlene, "it's not like Ravenclaw has a chance, anyway."

It was at that moment that someone on a broomstick came whizzing overhead. They felt the sole of the person's boots graze the flyaways atop their heads. A bludger incoming, the crowd ducked, narrowly avoiding the magical, heavy-weight ball. "Why aren't you sitting with Ashton?" Mary yelled, tugging on the sleeve of Lily's outer coat. She shrugged.

"Game days are for Gryffindor,"

Sirius shouted out his agreement. Although, in hindsight, Lily couldn't tell if he had been encouraging her or cheering for the spectacular maneuver of one of Ravenclaw's Chasers. "Where's Alice?" asked Peter, glancing around. Sure enough, the spritely blonde was missing. Lily squinted to make out the blurred faces of spectators on the other side of the pitch, to no avail.

"You didn't know?" Remus said, "She was banned from spectating Quidditch games at Hogwarts."

"Because Alice has a temper," James elaborated, frowning. "I would know...I've been on the receiving end of it enough, as it is." A snort from Dorcas aroused laughter in all of them as James demanded it wasn't a laughing matter.

"Frank's here, though," Dorcas pointed out once their laughter had subsided. The group was momentarily distracted when Slytherin made a goal. Then, returning their attention to the lanky figure several feet ahead of them, they watched him clear his throat, scan the crowd, glance up at the Quidditch players high above, and shift in place. He did this several times before, at last, Dorcas spoke up, "Frank, c'mere."

When he turned, the young Gryffindors took in the full extent to which the former Gryffindor had aged. He was stubbled and his hair could have used a trim, his robes were a little frumpy, as well. But, he was very much the same Frank Longbottom; his tired brown eyes, fidgeting hands, and awkward frame made that clear. Frank managed a lopsided grin, squeezing between students to get over to the sixth years. "Hullo," he said, "I trust you're not getting into any trouble." His eyes fell upon James and Sirius, who shrugged noncommittally.

"How little things do change," sighed Lily.

They paused to watch, with bated breath, as the Seekers dove into a frenzied grab for the Snitch. They'd lost it a second later. " _I_ would have caught it," commented Mary idly, fussing with her nails. James clapped her on the shoulder.

"I hear you're driving Alice up the wall," Lily continued, smiling. She _had_ been closer to Frank than she had with Alice, as it happened, despite the larger age gap. But, when Frank had graduated, he seemed to simply evaporate. None of the students had seen or heard from him until he, Alice, and the rest of the Aurors appeared at Hogwarts at the beginning of the year. It was like Frank to dive into his work, but the consequences of this had been more dramatic than in his Hogwarts years.

Frank grimaced. "Believe me, I've heard, too," he confessed. They all laughed at Frank's rare humor. He went on over them, his lips twisting into a scowl, "Alice is as insufferable and frustrating as she finds me, I promise you."

"That's believable," said James just as Lily said,

"Now, Frank,"

They glared at each other. "You know," said Marlene diplomatically to Frank, "perhaps if you talked out your disagreements, then you could resolve things without fighting?"

"Yeah, _right_ ," chorused James and Lily, still watching each other.

Lily's fists were balled by her side. "Maybe if _Alice_ learned to act with a little decorum, then _Frank_ wouldn't have to put his foot down all the time."

James stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "Well, if _Frank_ would loosen up a little, then _Alice_ wouldn't seem so unmanageable."

"Are you kidding me?" came Remus, looking between the two of them.

The crowd silenced. " _Look_ ," snapped Mary who had risen to her feet and was pointing across the pitch. The Seekers were circling one of the far towers of the pitch, the Snitch—glinting in the afternoon sun—just below them. A bludger whizzed just past the ear of the Slytherin Seeker, Blayne Zabini, whose arms were extended out in front of him.

" _Go, go, go_ ," chanted Sirius.

Even the Chasers, still tossing the Quaffle back-and-forth, had slowed to watch the race between the Seekers. "He's not going to get it," said Dorcas, but was shushed by Peter. The birds, aware of the silence, returned to their perches in the nearby trees. Even the beating of their wings against the air could be heard in the hushed pitch.

Then, all at once, it ended. And Lily remembered why she loved Hogwarts Quidditch matches so much. Zabini's fist balled around the Snitch, which he lifted into the air, revealing the golden ball a moment later, clasped firmly between his pointer finger and thumb. Their hearts exploded through their mouths in the form of cheers. Marlene and Mary had grasped onto each other and begun to hop giddily up and down. James and Sirius turned to each other and screamed. Everyone else broke into cheerful, cacophonous applause or devastated cries. Lily beamed at Frank, who seemed confused by the reactions of the Gryffindor Quidditch players. "Am I missing something?" she heard him say above the chanting of Slytherins.

 _Yes_ , she thought. He's missed _this_ every year he's been gone.

* * *

 _A/N;_ So, my cat went missing today which had me FREAKING out (I found her) but I calmed down and edited this for y'all. Hope you enjoy! I'm sorry there wasn't a lot of actual Quidditch commentary. I'm not really sure how to go about it, to be honest...do give me ideas. Lastly: _Defy Not the Heart_ is an _actual_ trashy romance novel from the 70s. Wild, I know.

I just want to take a moment to explain the timing up to this point. The _prologue_ takes place on the day of the DADA O.W.L. Chapters 1, 2, and 3 take place during their first week back at Hogwarts for their Sixth Year. Chapter 4 takes place during the second week of September(I believe? It might be the third week, but that's not important). Now, Chapter 5 takes place in October. This chapter also takes place in October, but the Slytherin-Ravenclaw match occurs in the first weekend of November. I just wanted to clear that up because I'm sure it was confusing...Okay, well that's all for this needlessly long note.

Thanks for reading and feel free to favorite, follow, and review…[SIGNED, SAM]

 _Disclaimer_ : I...wish...I owned the rights to Sirius Black.


	8. Chapter 7

_If it wasn't for you..._

* * *

That day was different.

Dark clouds, immense in size, rolled onto the grounds in the early morning, leaving the castle in a sticky, anticipating darkness. The storm lurked but did not hit. It was the day before the long-awaited Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match and tensions were high. Just the day before, fights had nearly broken out between the two houses. Hufflepuff had practiced in the morning, leaving Gryffindor to practice in the afternoon, when it would likely be raining.

The entire Gryffindor Quidditch team had been unseen since the close of classes the day prior. There were only rumors about what kind of preparations James could possibly be making his team endure. Both the coming storm and the upcoming Quidditch match had the entire castle in some kind of tense tizzy.

Lily had escaped with Marlene to the library in the wee hours of the morning. Marlene had begrudgingly agreed, but only to escape the incessant chattering of the underclassmen. "I haven't even seen Mary for more than two minutes this week," lamented Marlene as the girls paced about the castle, having taken a break from studying.

"Potter is really taking this seriously," said Lily, glancing out the window to her right. The grounds were obscured by dense fog. "But, isn't this weather a little foreboding?"

"You sound like our Divination professor,"

Lily shuddered. Not quite ready to go back to studying, they began another lap around the floor. A huddled group of second years whispered excitedly amongst themselves. As Lily and Marlene passed, they looked up briefly before descending into more whispers. "That's Lily Evans," said one, "she's the meanest Prefect of the lot." Marlene giggled, Lily scowled.

"I am _not_ mean," bit Lily.

Marlene's shoulders heaved with laughter. "Well…"

" _Don't start_ , _McKinnon_ ," Lily warned. Their conversation remained light throughout their stroll. The girls stopped to greet acquaintances ("Mary said what? Well, I apologize for her…") and chatted idly about the mundane happenings of their year thus far. Marlene emphatically explained that Jonah had greeted her the other day and went on to dive into the intricacies of what that meant for their relationship. Lily thought she was being a little frivolous. At last, they returned to the library. Marlene held the door open for Lily, who walked in amidst a remark about how "chivalry is not dead."

Their table was tucked into the far back corner. During their break, the library had filled considerably. But, still, under Madame Pince's stern gaze, it was quiet as ever. Lily settled into the seat she'd saved across from Marlene. The seats in this corner were padded with extra cushioning and fashioned in velvety red upholstery. The tension in the air aside, Lily felt inexplicably comfortable in her corner of the world.

As she withdrew a quill from her bag and at last turned to her half-written Potions essay, she noticed something peeking out from underneath her essay. She glanced up to find Marlene distracted by a large book on Charms. Lily took the opportunity to withdraw the object, which happened to be a neat letter. The parchment was too expensive to be her own and it appeared as though the sender had taken great care in folding it into a proper letter. It was sealed with scarlet wax melted into a crest that Lily was not familiar with. Her name was printed neatly on top.

 _Lily Evans_

Taking care to make sure Marlene was not watching, Lily tore the seal and spread the letter over the top of her essay, hungry eyes devouring the words contained within.

 _Hello,_

 _I know this is sudden._

This first line had been scratched out and re-written a number of times, it seemed.

 _You once told me that all you wanted to do was help me...to listen to me..._

 _It isn't safe for you to talk so openly to me. They're always watching. Even now, I'm not sure that this safe. But, there are things you need to know and I'm afraid that...well, I don't want to disclose too much, in case this falls into the wrong hands._

 _Please meet me on Monday so that we can talk. On the fifth floor, there is a tapestry of Ivan the Terrible. Meet me there at 9 p.m._

 _Don't tell anyone._

 _With trust,_

 _E.B._

The rain hit the windows with a sudden, electrifying crack.

But, the anticipation had only just hit Lily.

. . .

She tried, but she couldn't sleep.

It was half-past one in the morning. The castle was long asleep in preparation for the bustling day to come. Still, Lily couldn't sleep. She saw blonde hair and blue eyes and trembling hands every time her eyes shut. And the anticipation from earlier in the day had turned into dread. Who was she to go around poking her head into other peoples' business? What if it was too much for her to handle? What if she dug herself too deep into something that she shouldn't have meddled with in the first place?

At last, she rose from her bed, drawing back the bed coverings slowly. The rusted hooks clattered against the bed frame. Lily winced but none of her roommates stirred. The storm had broken within the past hour, allowing a pale strip of moonlight to peek through the dense clouds and into their bedroom. Lily stood beneath the light for a moment, arms crossed over her chest and tired eyes glued to a spot unknown.

Everything felt a little too stuffy, though, so Lily tiptoed towards the door. She slipped out soundlessly and crept down the steps. The yellow glow of the hearth in the common room illuminated the stairs as she descended further down until at last, she stood at the threshold to the room.

It was an eclectic space. The belongings of the Gryffindor students lay scattered across the room. Massive, half-destroyed books lay open across armchairs. A large, fluffy cat slinked across the room, wide eyes peering curiously at the redheaded prefect. Even the rugs underfoot were a testament to the nature of the house: terribly mismatched but comfortable nonetheless. But, despite the state of the room, Lily's gaze was drawn immediately to the figure slumped in the armchair closest to the fire.

Perhaps stupidly, Lily approached. Once she'd settled into the couch by the fire, she allowed herself to glance up at the sleeping figure of James Potter. James had a lanky frame. He wasn't particularly tall—perhaps a few inches taller than Lily herself—but where he had once been gangly, years of Quidditch had finally filled him out. His glasses sat askew on the end of his nose, a crack in the middle had been shoddily repaired. His nose itself was a little crooked, probably from a fight that Lily was not privy to. She stared on guiltily. James was too animate, and too often flapping his jaw, to ever get a good look at him. She noticed his long fingers, calloused and bruised at the knuckles. And the stubble that marked his jaw.

It was clear that he hadn't been getting much sleep. Lily frowned. Of course, they weren't friends, but that didn't exempt her from being worried. James was the kind of ridiculous, reckless spirit to go out and get himself killed. And Lily didn't know if that was saddening or burdensome.

James shifted in the chair, groaning. He opened his eyes a touch, noticed Lily, and sat up a little straighter. "Evans," he grumbled. His voice was groggy. Lily knew that she should have looked away, but found herself giving the boy across from her a stern look. "Whaddya doin'?"

"You should go to sleep," Lily said in reply. James frowned. "Big day tomorrow."

He groaned, sitting forward at last. A folded piece of parchment was sprawled across his lap, which he quickly folded and shoved into his pocket. Then, removing his glasses, he rubbed his eyes vigorously before replacing his glasses. "You gonna be there tomorrow?" he asked, voice still sleepy.

"Am I a Gryffindor?"

James smiled, the lopsided kind. "Point made," he replied. "Don't know why I'm telling this to _you_ , Evans, but frankly, this is the one match I'd like to miss." Lily shot him an inquisitive look. "Everyone has expectations, you know. I'm James Potter—" Lily rolled her eyes, "—and that means that I'm supposed to always do the impossible. If the team wins, then it's a victory for us all. But, if we lose, it's on me. Why didn't I prepare them more? Why didn't I try harder?"

Lily sat there dumbly, feeling uncomfortable. It hadn't occurred to her. Why hadn't it? Perhaps she, too, had been caught up in the Potter-mania. _Can Potter do it? Of course, he can, he's Potter._ James stared into the fire tiredly. Then, at last, he lifted his hand up to tousle his hair and turned back to Lily, smiling sheepishly.

"Sorry to unload on you," he chuckled. "G'night, Evans." James trudged towards the boys' dorm staircase.

"James," said Lily suddenly, at last remembering the letter. He turned back to her, the glow of the fire reflected in his sullen, hazel eyes. "Oh...um. Nevermind. Good luck out there tomorrow."

He smiled and teetered up the stairs. It wasn't a lie, Lily assured herself, it was withholding information for his best interest. How could she place such a burden onto the Quidditch captain everyone was counting on?

. . .

"What do you think?"

Marlene unfurled a scarlet banner that was certainly meant to be carried by two people (Lily knew at once that she was expected to be the second person in that equation). The banner was bewitched to display a new cheerful, pro-Gryffindor message every few minutes. Currently, it read: _See your way to the GryffinDOOR, Hufflepuff!_

"Magnificent," Lily said, finally.

They worked together to roll the banner back up. Marlene wore a red and gold Gryffindor crest on each cheek. Later, she helped Lily draw red and gold lines across her face, amidst giggles. When she finished, Marlene sank more comfortably into Lily's bed, her smile dimming.

"I don't want this to end," Marlene sighed suddenly. At Lily's questioning look, Marlene gestured around wildly. " _This_. All of this. The Quidditch games. Sharing a dorm with you and the others. Fighting over Perpetua Ryan with Sirius. Pining over boys I'll never get. I love it all. It's so...us. This is my home, this is my life. Lily, I...I have no idea where to go from here because here is where I belong."

Lily frowned sadly and sighed, "Oh, Marlene." She held her friend tightly, petting her curly blonde hair and rubbing her back. "We might leave Hogwarts, but we'll stay the same. We can come back for Quidditch games and we can visit each other and stay up all night. Our friendship and our memories are forever, you know? Plus, it's too early to be concerned about this."

The blonde managed a small smile.

"Pluck up, chick," laughed Lily, "we have a team to root for!"

. . .

"We are Gryffindors," shouted James. The team banged on the lockers and hollered. "We're going to go out there, show some Gryffindor courage, and beat the living _shit_ out of those Hufflepuffs!"

" _Potter_ ," McGonagall warned from the doorway, having come down to wish her house team good luck.

James laughed jovially through an apology (and he could have sworn that he saw the Professor crack a smile). "We trained harder than them, longer than them, and we sure as hell have more passion than they do. This is _our_ pitch. Quidditch is _our_ sport," James continued as his teammates latched on their gear. Sirius hooted out his approval. After a few words with the Quidditch captain ("I want a fair game, as always, Potter"), McGonagall left to mingle with her fellow professors (and taunt Pomona Sprout, naturally).

The crowd roared just beyond the locker room doors. Their chanting made the walls quake. James broke into a grin, his heart hammering against his chest. He was high off of the adrenaline coursing through his veins. This, James thought, was what kept him from breaking. The team gathered at the kick-off. James patted each of them on the back. He trusted his teammates above most else. A scarlet banner caught his eye, and behind it, two small figures: a blonde and a redhead. James' lips curled into a smirk.

"Let's fuckin' do this,"

And they were off. The commentator (a spritely 3rd year), called out the names of the Gryffindor team in rapid succession: Keeper Gemma Schmidt, Beaters Klyde Klements and Sirius Black, Chasers Jonah Nix, Dorcas Meadowes, and James Potter, and Seeker Mary MacDonald. They circled the pitch high above, breathing in the rain-thick air and admiring the sheer masses of people in the crowd. Sirius, ever the show-off, zipped around just over the heads of the spectators, laughing too loudly. The professors watched on sternly.

It was then that the Hufflepuff team emerged, their vibrantly yellow uniforms making them look like stars against the dark backdrop of the sky. They didn't look an intimidating crew, but the rumors surrounding the vast improvements of the Hufflepuff team immediately seemed to be true. They glided gracefully around the pitch, circling the Gryffindors with ease. The captain, a seventh year girl named Janette Rosenthall, managed to pull up next to James. "I look forward to kicking your ass, Potter," she laughed good-naturedly, winking.

James chuckled. "I look forward to proving you wrong, Rosenthall," he replied before she sped off, going up to each of her teammates to talk to them. He located the new Seeker easily. And he wasn't the only one. Jonah Nix pulled up next to Sirius, nudging him with his leg.

"Check out the Seeker," he said with a charming grin before pulling off in another direction to talk to his fellow Chaser, Dorcas. Sirius watched a petite brunette streak across the pitch, in his direction. If not for her mustard yellow uniform, he might have mistaken her for Mary. After all, never had anyone so effortlessly picked up speed as only Mary could. The girl had her goggles pushed up onto her forehead and her long hair tied into a ponytail. He didn't realize how close she'd gotten until she whooshed past him. He stared after her, looping around to get a better look.

Was she captivating or terrifying? Sirius couldn't decide. He shook her out of his head, or tried, and pulled into position as Madam Hooch emerged onto the pitch.

. . .

Panic. Yes, that was it, Mary thought. She wasn't acquainted with this feeling when it came to Quidditch. After all, who could match her in a test of speed? The game had started half an hour prior, and still, nothing had been gained or lost. The Hufflepuffs were crafty, and though they played absolutely fairly (as was the Hufflepuff way), they were not opposed to annoying tricks. The Chasers, even James, had been dragged around in circles by the opposite team, and thus, unable to attempt any shots.

Mary, herself, had not had an opportunity to end the game quickly. Without the sun to glint off of the Snitch, it was nearly impossible to spot. And then there was the issue of the Hufflepuff Seeker. Mary could not seem to recall her name, but the girl was quick. Alarmingly quick. Mary eyed her closely. She was across the pitch, and some feet higher. Mary wiped sweat from her neck.

Suddenly, a bludger rushed past, ruffling her hair in its wake. If it had been an inch closer, Mary would have been taken out. Klements whizzed past her, shouting an apology. "Stay focused, MacDonald," James shouted from below. Somehow, their captain could keep an eye on everything at once.

Mary climbed higher, in hopes of getting a better vantage point. It was from there that she spotted Dorcas.

. . .

It hadn't been a plan that she wanted to use so early in the game. But, James caught on at once and went along with it, so she plunged forward. The maneuver depended on the heat of the game and required a general lack of attention from the other team. Dorcas sped towards the Hufflepuff rings. James sped after her. Sirius seemed to catch on, as well, seeking out the nearest bludger. She felt a Hufflepuff Chaser coming to her rear. Jonah remained at the middle of the pitch with Sirius and the true holder of the Quaffle.

The remaining Hufflepuff Chasers, however, for lack of attention, were convinced that Dorcas was in possession of the Quaffle (as her mad dash would suggest). James' pursuit seemed only to confirm this. It was at this moment that Sirius would drive the Bludger into the actual holder of the Quaffle, who would be forced to drop the Quaffle into the hands of Jonah, who would hand it off to James. And, if needed, Dorcas would ensure the goal.

The plan had begun as a joke, of course, but had somehow evolved into a genuine course of action given the right circumstances. Dorcas had not been sure that the tactic would work, as the game was not as heated as she would have liked and Hufflepuff was more on their game than usual. But, it was working. She glanced behind her.

Sirius would be nailing the Chaser with the bludger any second now.

. . .

Sirius had every intention of following through with the plan. He had even managed to set the bludger up correctly. But, who wouldn't turn to watch a shooting star?

The Hufflepuff Seeker was in an impossible dive, with Mary at her heels. Then, Mary pulled abruptly out of the dive and sped away. The bludger not under Sirius' watch had been batted towards Mary, but was entirely off the mark. It would undoubtedly collide with the focused Hufflepuff Seeker. The trajectory was lethal. The girl's head would be smashed to pieces. Sirius glanced at Dorcas, who was making good time, the Hufflepuffs still on her tail.

When the choice is between life and victory, what does one choose?

Sirius launched the bludger towards the bludger targeting the Seeker. It hit the bludger with a resounding crack. The Seeker spared Sirius a confused glance amidst her dive. Her lip quirked into a grin.

But, why was everything so quiet?

. . .

Everything was at once quiet and loud, too dark and too bright. James gasped for breath. Where had it gone? It was just there, heavy and panting as he chased Dorcas...But, then, where had it gone? His lungs had simply disappeared. Stupidly, he thought of Lily and her father who died of lung cancer. Did it feel like this?

"James!" someone shouted. Yes, someone. A girl, maybe. She was too loud. He was in pain, he realized, and winced. "James! James Potter! Can you hear me?"

He thought he groaned, but the pain was so loud that he couldn't even hear himself. His senses were gone, non-existent. His lungs burned, screaming for air. Did he have fingers? Arms? Feet? Legs? He couldn't tell. His existence felt suddenly outside of a body, like floating. But so much more painful. Why did it hurt so much?

Was he dead?

"James Fucking Potter," cried a new voice. He felt hands on his face. Was it his face? He couldn't tell, it was all so obscure. The pain was everywhere, though. He didn't know where they were, but his knees hurt and his ribs did, too.

"James, mate!" That voice. Now, James knew that voice. He knew it like his own voice. His heart gave a heavy wrench.

He felt arms around him. And then he was floating. Or flying. No, maybe not flying. Flying shouldn't hurt like this. "What happened?" said a voice above him. It was a plain voice, the kind that James would have mocked in the past, perhaps.

"We were doing th-this, um, maneuver. And he was following me, just as we planned. And Sirius, he was supposed to...but I saw him do something else. Oh, _Sirius_. I have to...but James...James sped up and he took the full b-blow of the f-fucking b-bludger. W-Why did he d-do that?" cried an increasingly hysteric voice. _Oh_ , thought James. Dorcas. Sirius? And…

Tears. Too loud. "I should have been there," the other female voice cried, "if I had been there, I…"

"It's not your fault. You couldn't change things, Alice," said the plain voice.

"No, y-you don't understand, Frank!" cried the female voice who was, of course, Alice.

"That doesn't matter, Alice!" shouted the plain voice that belonged to Frank. There were so many voices. So many names. So much pain. James felt everything tighten and uncurl excruciatingly. He thought he might have vomited. When would the pain stop?

Couldn't he just die?

. . .

"He won't die, will he?"

The stern woman scowled at the blonde. "For the tenth time, Miss McKinnon, _no_. He will not die. His injuries were severe, and surely very painful, but not life-threatening. So, please, _go away_."

Marlene crossed her arms over her chest and mustered her sternest look. "Fine," she snapped, "I didn't realize _concern_ was such a terrible thing."

"It is when it's taking me away from my patients," replied the nurse smartly before closing the Hospital Wing door in her face. Marlene whispered something course under her breath before turning to Lily and sighing.

"Can you believe that she let Dorcas, Alice, and the guys in, but she won't let _us_ in?" grumbled Marlene as they headed back towards the Great Hall. Lily sighed. It was frustrating, to some degree, but that might have just been her curiosity getting to her.

After all…"It's not like we're as close to him as they are," reasoned Lily. Marlene seemed annoyed by this, settling heavily into her seat as if to prove that. Lily ladled lentil stew into her bowl, keeping her eyes down to avoid the gaze of all of her peers. But, still, she couldn't escape a certain, misplaced gaze. Lily looked up to meet a pair of grey eyes. "Sirius? Aren't you in the Hospital Wing with James?"

He pushed his food around his plate, letting his fork screech against the plate, much to the chagrin of the surrounding Gryffindors. "You really think they want me there? Evans, did you _miss_ everything that happened?"

"Hey..."

Sirius lifted his gaze to glare at her. "Hufflepuff won because of _me_. _I_ let that happen to James. I mean, he could have...d-died. How could I be so careless?" growled Sirius, pushing his silverware away with a clatter. He stood from the table, then, and stormed from the Great Hall. The room burst into boisterous whispering.

"Something is weird about this," said Marlene suddenly, waving her fork. "I don't feel right about this at all, Lily." Lily shrugged in response. It _was_ awfully strange. Why would Sirius sabotage Gryffindor as he had? The whole game had played out so quickly. It was done in less than an hour, which is almost unheard of. The Hufflepuff Seeker and Mary had been in a dive for the Snitch. Dorcas and James had begun to race up the pitch, in what Marlene had explained to be a feign. Sirius had taken aim at the Hufflepuff Chaser in possession of the Quaffle. But, then the bludger had rocketed towards Dorcas and James had darted in front.

And thus they ended up as they were. The Gryffindor Quidditch team did not show up for dinner at all. Marlene had nearly hexed Bertram Aubrey's head into a new realm when he'd jested that they were in mourning. Sure enough, they had found Mary in the dorm, curled up beneath her blankets. She was not asleep. Her eyes were glassy, though. Lily insisted that they give her space. "I imagine that they all blame themselves like Sirius," sighed Lily. "We all know how much this game meant to them. They worked so hard. And to have things fall apart so severely...well, of course, it's going to be hard. They're all going to look critically at themselves: _What did I do wrong? Why didn't I do this or that? What could I have done to change things?_ That kind of thing."

Marlene slumped, resting her chin in her palm. "Some people think we're being too dramatic about this," she said. "I heard some Slytherins saying that we need to lighten up."

"What do they know?" shot back Lily. "Yeah, I'll admit that I used to feel the same way when people would get all angry over a Gryffindor loss. But, you know what? When your friends are on the team and you've seen them get up at 4 a.m. for weeks in order to practice for this one day...and then see all that work go down the drain...God, I can't fully grasp how they must feel. But, I can imagine. And Potter…"

"It was important to him," finished Marlene.

Lily nodded. They sat in silence for a while, enjoying the sound of the fire crackling from far below. Eventually, they heard footsteps coming up the stairs. A kinky head of hair and sullen face rounded the corner. Dorcas looked dully back at them as they scrambled to stand. "How is he?" asked Lily at once, scanning Dorcas' face.

"Why don't you go see him?" answered Dorcas, her tone perhaps a little too sharp. Lily overlooked it. "He wants to see you, anyway. Has something to say." Dorcas pushed past them and into the dorm. The door shut with a harsh click. Lily watched the door before turning to Marlene.

"Do you mind if I go?"

Marlene smiled. "Please, do," she responded, gaze training on the door. "I'll handle things in there, so don't worry about it." She approached the door but paused, "Oh, Lily, let him know we're thinking about him."

Lily nodded, sent her a grim grin, and trotted down the stairs.

. . .

The door to the Hospital Wing was unlocked. Lily opened it with a great heave. Madam Pomfrey sat in her office. She looked up when Lily came in and gave her a stern look, but did not object to her presence. It must have been true, then, that James asked to see her. It escaped her as to _why_ that would be. Not that she didn't have things to say to him, anyway.

The Hospital Wing was empty, but still the curtains were drawn around what must have been James' cot. Lily checked her watch, recalling with great anxiety the student curfew. It was 7:45. She had time. Lily approached the cot, finally, feeling a sudden surge of nerves. She lifted her knuckles to one of the rods holding up the curtain and when she knocked it, she was met with a light _clang_.

"Come in, Evans,"

Lily did as instructed, pushing aside the curtains to enter the enclosed area around James' cot. The boy in question was propped up against the back of his bed with a number of pillows. Lily stood awkwardly at the end of his bed, unsure of what to do with herself. Why had he asked for her? He should have spent more time with his friends. No wonder Dorcas seemed angry.

"Welcome to my humble abode," greeted James, "get comfortable, Evans, pull up a chair."

She eyed him bemusedly. "You're in good spirits," she said, settling into one of the metal chairs next to his bed. He half-shrugged, wincing. "Are you in a lot of pain, then?"

"Stupid question, Evans,"

Flushing, Lily offered a soft apology. James closed his eyes, tilting his head back. From what she could see, he was certainly as bashed and battered as Pomfrey had suggested. He had a nasty bruise across the side of his face where his head had hit the ground. Lily winced upon recalling the sight. James opened his eyes and looked at her. When he didn't avert his gaze, Lily cleared her throat, met his gaze, and at last asked, "Why did you want to see me?"

James grinned. "Ginger is good for illnesses," he answered cleverly. Lily's expression seemed unsure, as she looked somewhere between murderous and entertained. "I don't know, Evans, I just wanted to milk the pity cow. Plus, I wanted to tell you that you're a jinx. That 'good luck' was not so helpful, Evans."

"You're terrible," Lily laughed. James beamed back at her. She leaned over to his bedside table and grabbed his glasses, handing them to him. He put them on but didn't spare her an inquisitive look. "You look weird without them," she said quickly, "also there's something you need to see."

James adjusted his glasses on his nose (it had been broken a few hours prior, but that had been an easy fix for Pomfrey). With his glasses, Lily was her full self rather than just a ginger blob. He certainly preferred her this way. The corduroy skirt that she wore was something he'd seen plenty of times before. It was her lucky skirt, according to Mary. From its front pocket, she withdrew a small square of folded parchment. Lily handed it to him silently and returned to her seat. He would have been unnerved by her gaze had he not been so curious about the parchment.

James recognized at once that it was a letter. He spared a glance in Lily's direction before opening the letter. He scanned it quickly, then read it more thoroughly two more times before looking up at Lily. "Evans, this is…"

Lily scooted closer and dropped into a whisper. "I know, from Emma. I knew she was hiding something," she said, eyes trained on the letter. James re-read it again, frowning. Perhaps his head was a little mixed up from his accident. James was not the rational one in any situation, after all. And yet…

"Evans, I'm not sure about this," he confessed. "I don't know, it seems too convenient. And she was... _terrified_. The sudden change of heart, it's...a hard thing to just accept. I know that this could be an important breakthrough. But, it could just as easily be a set-up."

The redhead looked crestfallen. Of course, he was right. She had considered these things, too, and had certainly lost sleep over it. But, still, the chance that it wasn't a set-up was inexplicably intriguing to Lily. "I want to go, Potter. I have to know. This could be my only chance to help a girl that really needs it. And I know I'm not always the best person, but this is an opportunity for me to feel proud of myself again."

James considered her carefully until he, at last, looked away. "Just be careful."

"I will," she said, edging on indignation.

"Evans, I'm serious,"

Lily fiddled with one of her bracelets. "I know, Potter. But, this is Hogwarts. Nothing really bad can happen," said Lily. James met her gaze.

"Priscilla Goodwin went missing here,"

. . .

Madam Pomfrey would not tell James how many bones he had broken in the accident. The nurse would simply not allow him to go around bragging about his injuries for fear that he would inspire the younger children. So, as James traipsed back to his room, healed but not fully recovered, he made a game of guessing what the number might be. It must have been immense, he figured, for Pomfrey to be so adamant about not telling him.

It was noon by the time he was discharged from the Hospital Wing. Pomfrey had only let him go because she couldn't stand to hear him whine any longer. She had, however, given him very strict orders to remain in his room for the rest of the day. As such, he was excused from all classes. This was a deal that James could not argue with.

He had never been a fan of the Hospital Wing. It smelled of wizard disinfectant (which is _particularly_ unpleasant) and Pomfrey was not the most accommodating host. When James had bribed the House Elves into bringing him more food from the Kitchens during his stay in fifth year, Pomfrey had had an absolute fit. And then there was the sadness and worry on everyone's faces. James couldn't bear it.

Dorcas and Alice would hardly leave him alone. He had specifically neglected to tell them about his release in order to get some peace and quiet. Alice was dramatic and Dorcas kept nagging him. The part of him that appreciated them as caring friends had been silenced by the part of him that wanted to be free of the constraints of illness.

And then there was the issue of Lily.

Of course, he couldn't tell her how much he didn't want her to go meet Emma. If it even _was_ Emma. He could have begged. He could have thrown a tantrum about it. He could have even yelled at her for being careless (what a change of pace _that_ would have been). But, he didn't. Because he knew how it would end. Lily was the type to do exactly what someone _didn't_ want her to do just to prove a point. And he didn't want her to rush into anything.

He figured that this way, at least, she would think things through. Make a plan.

The Fat Lady gave him a pointed look. "Are you going to give me the password or what?" she snapped. James glared at her and offered the password. The portrait swung open, albeit not without some venomous grumbling. He found that the common room had cleared out, all of the students having gone to class or lunch.

James stretched out the kink in his neck (which hurt very much, convincing him that something in that area had been broken) and headed for his dormitory. It occurred to him that he wasn't entirely sure how to face his best friend. He hadn't really spent any time up until then considering how he felt about the issue of Sirius and his actions. A more irrational part of him wanted to fly off the handle. But, he knew Sirius. And he knew what he would do to protect James. Was that enough of an excuse to just forgive Sirius? After all, James couldn't stand being angry at his best friend.

These concerns came to a peak as he opened the door to his dormitory. For, as fate would have it, Sirius was lounging on his bed in the dorm. He scrambled to his feet as James entered, staring intently at him and then looking at the floor. He stuttered over his words for a while before finally announcing, "I'll just go."

"Don't chicken out of this, you ass," James said plainly, shutting the door behind him. "I don't need an apology or weeks of you moping and feeling guilty. I need an explanation. A play-by-play. What the fuck happened out there, Sirius?"

Sirius flinched at the use of his name instead of his nickname. "I-I don't even know what happened, Prongs. It just...happened so fast. I made a mistake. I'm so sorry."

"That's not an explanation," James said, collapsing into his bed and staring up at the ceiling. "I've heard some of it already. Something about the Hufflepuff Seeker."

"When you put it that way, I sound like an idiot," Sirius groaned, settling into his own bed, gaze still trained on James. He withdrew the Snitch from his bedside table and Sirius flinched. "It's really not like that. I wouldn't just throw you under the bus for some girl. I mean, I didn't even throw you under the bus, to be fair."

James turned his head to look at Sirius, eyebrows raised. "Get to the point, mate."

"I was getting ready to complete my part," Sirius began, eyeing the Snitch. "I happened to catch sight of the Hufflepuff Seeker and Mary diving for the Snitch. I was about to look away when Mary pulled away for no reason. And that's when I saw the bludger…" He paused to gauge James' reaction, which was nearly impossible, as his fellow Marauder didn't even entirely look like he was paying attention. James was focused intently on the Snitch he was rolling between his fingers. Still, Sirius went on, "If the bludger hit her like it was supposed to, she'd be dead. I mean, it was going for her fucking head. Screw the fact that she was a pretty bird, she could have died, Prongs. How could I let that happen? So, I threw it off her course. How was I supposed to know it would head right for Dorcas? And then you swerved in front of her…"

James stayed absolutely silent, still fiddling with the Snitch as Sirius sat upright on his bed, like a child being punished. "The Seeker's name is Carmen Plum," James said, at last, grinning over at Sirius. "You should go see her."

Sirius looked at him incredulously. "Prongs, what…"

"Who cares if I got hurt? I didn't die. I trust you. If you say it was life or death, then that's that. We'll just have to whoop some Ravenclaw and Slytherin ass to make up for this," James said. Sirius lept over Remus' bed to crash into James' bed.

"I love you, Prongsie," he laughed. James snorted. "But, there's another issue."

James cocked an eyebrow, stuffing the Snitch into his pocket.

" _Dorcas_ ,"

. . .

Dorcas _was_ a problem. " _Why_ are you out of the Hospital Wing? Did Pomfrey let you out just because you were annoying? How irresponsible of her...Come on, we're going back there," said Dorcas quickly, grabbing James by the arm and attempting to drag him towards the portrait hole. James stood rooted to his spot, though. He cracked a grin, placing his hands on Dorcas' shoulders.

"Dorcas, I get that you're concerned," he laughed, "but I'm fine. Truly."

She looked warily at him, shook her head, and made to drag him towards the portrait hole again. James burst into laughter as he struggled against her. He caught a glimpse of Sirius, hiding in the staircase for fear of Dorcas. Dorcas scowled back at James and threw his arms down. "Don't you get that I'm trying to repay a debt! You saved me, James, so now I owe you something."

"That's not how this works, Dorcas, we're friends."

She scowled. "My parents taught me to always repay my debts. Now I owe a huge one to you and it's _killing_ me. So, just deal with it even if I'm overbearing," she yelled, ignoring the looks the other Gryffindors were giving her. Dorcas hated being the center of attention, but if James was involved, she figured it would be impossible to not be. And then she caught sight of Sirius. " _You_."

"Me?" Sirius mouthed innocently, pointing at himself. Dorcas stomped towards him as he retreated further up the stairs. James and Remus held her back, one laughing and the other horrified. "Dorcas, James and I have worked things out. He's not mad. So, please, let me live!"

Dorcas narrowed her eyes. "Just because he forgave you doesn't mean that I have to."

"At least hear him out," squeaked Peter. Dorcas gave the boy a scathing look, but the other Marauders chorused their agreement with Peter. Relaxing, Dorcas moved away from Sirius.

Mostly because she was very aware that she'd never make it up the boys' staircase.

. . .

"So, things are good again?" Marlene asked over dinner. She slid a new edition of _The Daily Rebel_ to James amidst spooning food into her mouth.

James skimmed the article titles and replied, "I suppose. I wasn't very angry to begin with, just confused. Dorcas was the real issue." The mentioned girl scowled at him from above her book. "Speaking of issues, where's Evans? I haven't seen her all day."

Mary turned back to the group (she had been talking to a fourth year), "I haven't a clue. She left early in the morning and I only saw her briefly in class. Why? Did that bludger knock you back to fifth year?" Marlene laughed too hard, spewing potatoes across the table.

"I need to talk to her," James pressed on, ignoring Mary's comment.

"You two sure have a lot of private talks now," Marlene said. "It couldn't possibly be that you two are…" James expected the worst, but Marlene went on, " _friends_?"

"Hardly," spoke the redhead in question, settling into the seat next to Sirius, which typically belonged to Remus. He, however, was absent that night due to an emergency concerning his mother. Lily spooned bread pudding onto her plate, bypassing actual food entirely. She ate ravenously as if she hadn't had anything all day, which was entirely possible. But, of everyone there, James was the one who knew what had Lily acting so strange. "And Potter, let's talk after dinner."

"What?"

Lily looked up from her dessert. "You said you wanted to talk?"

. . .

James _had_ wanted to talk. But, with Lily, it was never that easy. She waited for him outside of the Great Hall and they walked back to the Gryffindor common room together. "Are you feeling better? Are you still in pain?" she asked, so easily that it almost seemed like normal behavior.

"I'm fine," he answered, shrugging. Lily hopped over the trick step, watching as James did the same. He fidgeted with the Snitch in his pocket. "Evans, about tonight…"

"If you're going to try and change my mind…"

James shook his head. "I'm not," he said, but added, "it's not like I could, anyway." Lily thought that this was a fair assumption. James tousled his hair and went on, "I was just thinking...what happens if you find out something out of our control? It's not like we can go to the professors or Dumbledore..."

"Why not?"

"It'd be betraying her trust," said James, frowning. They were nearing the common room already.

Lily watched the students far ahead of them. "I'm willing to break that trust if it's what's good for her," she said finally, turning to look seriously at James. "Loyalty is important. But, so is doing what's right."

It turned out that Lily really _was_ like Sirius.

* * *

Alice slammed her hands on the table, thereby jolting Frank awake. The Aurors' quarters were nothing special. Essentially, the top floor of the Hogsmeade Tavern had been converted into the base of the Aurors stationed at Hogwarts. It was a measly three rooms (for eight Aurors) along with a small parlor that they'd converted into an office space. As it happened, Frank was the only one who ever used the space for actual work.

The blonde stared him down as he looked back at her with his usual bored gaze, although he looked a little more exhausted than usual on this particular day. "Yes, Alice Fortescue?" said Frank at length.

She lifted her hands from the table and turned her back so that she couldn't see him. He stared at his mentee, slightly annoyed. The rest of the team called Alice the problem child. They chided Frank for dealing with her and reminded him that he ought to scold her more often. But, then there was her whining to deal with, and Frank wasn't necessarily comfortable with dealing with her kicked-puppy act.

On this day, however, he was so fatigued from a day of endless work that he was willing to deal with it if she'd leave him alone. Alice had been testing him for a while. Just a firm word and she'd be put in place, he thought. Alice twisted her features oddly, let out an odd sound, and finally spoke, "IjustwantedtothankyouforwhatyoudidforJamesthatdayafterallyouknowhemeansalottome."

"Excuse me?"

Alice screwed up her face as if she was going to cry, turned back towards Frank, and shouted, "I said thank you! Savor it! It's not happening again!"

He sat up a little straighter in his chair and adjusted the reading glasses he wore. "It was no problem, Alice," he responded, bemused. She glared at him, not sure how to take his behavior. To Alice, Frank must have been the most boring and frustrating man she'd ever met. No wonder they never hung out at Hogwarts. But, still…

"I guess...you deserve more credit than I've given you," Alice added lowly, but turned on her heel just as quickly and stomped out of the room. Frank sat there, spinning in his chair, watching the door. Yeah, he avoided Alice and her crowd at Hogwarts. She was like a Cornish Pixie if he had to make a comparison. Who would want to be involved with that? But, still…

She could be endearing.

* * *

 _A/N;_ Big things happening next chapter. Look forward to that.

Oh, I also noticed that the formatting got messed up on the last chapter. My apologies, for that. I've fixed it for this chapter! As always: enjoy!

And of course...review, favorite, follow, and review some more (if you so please)! [SIGNED, SAM]

 _Disclaimer:_ I dreamt that I wrote _Harry Potter_ once. But, it was a dream and I'm still not the owner.


	9. Chapter 8

_***TRIGGER WARNING: SENSITIVE TOPICS WILL BE DISCUSSED IN THIS CHAPTER. READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION. CHAPTER TL;DR AT END OF AUTHOR'S NOTE.***_

 _They couldn't put her back together again_.

* * *

In hindsight, Lily Evans would realize that James Potter was, on this occasion, entirely right.

She should not have gone to meet Emma Bridgewater. Because some things could not be fixed once they were broken. And as Lily crawled into bed at the end of that night, knowing full well that she would not find sleep, she wondered how instrumental her own role was in bringing about the events that had unfolded.

Lily thought, with great alarm, that it might have been her fault entirely.

. . .

 _Tap. Tap. Tap._ She was restless. _Tap. Tap. Tap_. She may have even been on-edge. _Tap. Tap. Tap._ The redhead stared numbly into the crackling fire. After a second's pause, she again rapped her quill against the table three times. A fifth year by the fire shifted uncomfortably in their seat, casting a sour glance back at Lily. Mary released a great huff of air and snatched the quill from Lily's hand. "That is _enough_ , Lily Evans, you're driving me up the goddamn wall!" she hissed.

Lily looked innocently back at her and muttered, "Sorry." She couldn't recall how long she'd been in the common room, but it felt like hours. Sitting up, she pulled back the sleeve of her jumper to check the time. 8:15. She ought to leave soon. Her spine gave an unpleasant shiver. It had been over two days since she'd received the letter from Emma. Enough had happened in that time span to keep her from dwelling too severely over their meeting. Until, of course, that morning.

As if on cue, she'd awoken, unable to shake the feeling of dread clawing through her veins. _Emma, Emma, Emma_ , her brain chanted. And then, _Priscilla, Priscilla, Priscilla_. She busied herself all day long, but the voices continued. _Emma, Emma, Emma_. _Priscilla, Priscilla, Priscilla_. It was driving her mad. She knew it was her mind, playing tricks on her, commanding her to stay on the sidelines rather than meddle in something that didn't concern her.

But as 8:25 came upon her, Lily ignored the foreboding voices and packed up her things. The common room occupants seemed to give a collective sigh of relief as Lily made her way up the stairs to drop her things off in the dorm. "Hey," she said upon entering, as Dorcas was lounging on her bed.

"Going somewhere?" asked Dorcas. The redhead had set her things down upon her trunk and was currently freshening up in the mirror of Mary's vanity.

Lily shrugged. "Not really," she said, "just to see Ashton."

"I won't tell Mary," Dorcas laughed. "Don't stay out too late."

She threw a thicker jumper over her shoulders. "I won't, Mum," she replied smartly as she shut the door. If Dorcas knew what she was going to do, Lily wondered, would she be disappointed?

Yes, Lily thought, but went on her way, anyway.

. . .

"I get the feeling that you're going to try and go with us tonight," said Sirius from his bed. He was flipping through an old copy of Quidditch Style. When he received no response, he turned his head towards James. "It's not happening, Prongs, you're not fully recovered."

Sat on the trunk at the end of his bed, James fiddled anxiously with the Snitch. His anxiety was two-fold: Lily Evans would soon be out to meet Emma Bridgewater and Remus would have to be satiated by Sirius and Peter alone. The night's prospects were looking grimmer and grimmer by the minute. "Look, Padfoot, I really think that I ought to go," announced James, meeting Sirius' steely-eyed gaze. "It's not safe with just the two of you. After all, if Moony loses control, Wormtail can't do anything to help you."

Peter looked upset by this comment but said nothing. He turned quietly back to his homework and let James and Sirius hash it out. That was how it always was, after all. The other Marauders didn't often listen to poor little Wormtail. He sighed. Usually, they looked to Remus to solve these disputes...

"Wormtail, tell him it's a bad idea," barked Sirius.

James stood up. "No, Wormtail, tell him that I ought to come!"

"I-I don't…" began Peter, scratching the back of his neck furiously as he looked from his homework to his feuding friends. "I don't know. James has only been out of the Hospital Wing since noon...and Moony seemed much better than usual these past few times…"

The other two seemed to take this in for a moment. Then, James settled back into his seat on the trunk and Sirius gave a pleased grin. "What time is it, anyway?" grunted James, looking around for the watch he so often neglected to wear. He knew how she felt, but James still felt that he should try to talk to Lily one more time. What would he do if something bad happened?

"8:30," said Peter, pulling his sleeve back over his watch. "Why?"

Shrugging, James stood and did up the buttons on his shirt. "No reason, really," he replied, "just seeing how much time you have left. It's usually around 10:00 for Remus, so…"

"We know, Prongs," sighed Sirius.

James headed for the door. "I know," he chuckled. "I'm just making sure. Anyway, I'm gonna go see if Jonah's in the common room. See ya." With that, James exited the room, letting the door shut softly behind him as he trotted down the stairs. The common room was still bustling at this hour. James squeezed through a group of gossiping girls and gave Jonah Nix a friendly clap on the shoulder as he made his way to Mary MacDonald, who was conversing with a fifth year. "Hey, Mary," he greeted, hovering beside her chair.

The brunette looked lazily up at James, flicking her eyes over to the fifth year seated before her. "Yes, Potter?" she said sweetly, her gaze betraying her tone.

"Have you seen Evans?"

Mary released a loud sigh. "Poor Pining Potter returns, as expected," She grinned as James rolled his eyes (he hated this nickname in particular). "Well, I regret to say that Lily just left a few minutes ago," she said, her smile widening as she turned back to her fifth year friend. James turned away, frowning.

She'd left a few minutes ago…

. . .

It was exactly 8:30 when she'd left. Lily cursed herself. She had underestimated how tricky it could be to navigate the sprawling castle. She sprinted down another staircase and as a bead of sweat gathered on the nape of her neck she direly regretted throwing on an extra jumper. The redhead skidded to a stop as the trick step approached, leaping gingerly over it before resuming her mad dash.

The paintings hung tightly together along the walls grumbled as she passed, shooting snide comments about how uncouth children could be. Lily ignored them and descended further into the castle. She glanced down at her watch. 8:50.

Lily reached the fifth floor with little time to spare. She broke into a sprint, feet slapping the cool stone floor with a _smack_. As she skidded around the corner, she watched a figure appear at the end of the corridor and start towards her. Lily approached, heart hammering. The corridor was awfully long and by the time Lily realized that the approaching figure did not have the stature of Emma Bridgewater, it was too late. "Hey, you," the figure said and Lily cowered. "Curfew is in fifteen minutes, you ought to hurry off."

Under the torchlight, the figure was unmistakably _not_ Emma Bridgewater. He was a few inches taller than Lily herself and solidly built, though not burly. He wore wire-framed glasses and a frumpy wizard's suit, covered by a heavily-used brown cloak. She recognized him as one of the Aurors she'd seen around the castle. Lily relaxed, marginally. He had tired, grumpy brown eyes which stared expectantly down at her. "I'm sorry, sir, I just had to return something to my friend. She desperately needs it, you see…" she explained, biting her lip. "It's a...feminine product, sir. I can show you, if you don't believe me, just let me get it…" Lily reached into her pocket as if to grab something.

"No, no, no," the Auror said quickly. "That's quite alright. Just get back to your common room quickly. It's not safe to wander the halls at night, Miss."

Lily smiled pleasantly. "Yes, sir," she said and watched him walk off the way she'd come. She released a puff of air and continued down the corridor. The Ivan the Terrible tapestry was just at the end of the corridor, she remembered, and she hadn't seen Emma there. Lily relaxed upon reaching the tapestry, taking a minute to catch her breath. When a minute passed without any sign of Emma (it was 9:03, she thought sadly), Lily glanced up at the tapestry. The dimming torchlights just barely illuminated the sunken face of Ivan himself, his bloodshot eyes seeming to bulge from his face. Even the ornate golden robes he wore seemed to hold an uncomfortable air around them.

"May I _help_ you?" the tapestry spoke suddenly. Lily jumped backward, hitting her back into the stone wall behind her.

"N-No!" she yelped. "Sorry."

Ivan glowered at her a second longer before shutting his eyes. Unsure as to whether or not the Tapestry Ivan was truly sleeping, Lily dared not look at it again. She should have known better—Ivan wasn't known as terrible without reason. Lily leaned back against the wall, looking back and forth along the corridor. By 9:10, Emma had not appeared. Remembering the Auror from earlier, Lily realized that she would have to go back to the common room at 9:15 to avoid getting in trouble.

Why would Emma not come? It must have been something to do with her friends in Ravenclaw, Lily guessed. After all, Pippa had been overtly controlling in public, so Lily could only imagine the vice grip she had on her privately. Lily bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself alert. This was perhaps for naught, as another two minutes passed without any sign of Emma.

Lily hesitated when the big hand on her watch clicked over to the three. What if Emma had been caught by Filch and that had kept her? She could still be on her way. Lily bit her lip, glancing between the tapestry and the empty corridor. She started down the corridor, the way she'd come. After all, if Emma was on her way, she'd have to pass by Lily to get to the tapestry, anyway.

With that in mind, Lily began the walk back to the common room. She listened to the _click-clack_ of her shoes against the stone and the soft snores of the paintings lining the walls. A slight chill picked up in the air as Lily walked, and despite her earlier feelings, she was glad to have brought the warmer jumper with her. The torchlights continued to dim, as was customary following curfew. Then, suddenly, they stopped dimming. Lily squinted down the corridor to see if someone was coming.

Instead, she heard a scream.

Lily had never understood the term 'blood-curdling.' After all, blood could not _curdle_. And furthermore, how could a shout cause blood to curdle but not do the same to milk? It all seemed very illogical to her. Until, of course, that moment.

She dashed down the hallway in the direction of the scream, knowing full well that every Auror in the castle was likely doing the same. She rounded the corner too quickly and nearly fell. To her horror, she found that a small crowd had already gathered. Most were authority figures (prefects, Aurors, even professors) but among them were a few students. Of them, she noticed Ashton immediately and approached. "W-What happened?" she asked as he turned to her.

Ashton grabbed her arm a little too tightly. His mouth was agape, but no sound came out. He choked on the words he was trying to get out until, finally, he managed, "Don't look."

Lily grabbed his shoulders and looked carefully into his eyes. His pupils were absurdly wide, she noticed. He was terrified. "I'm a Prefect, Ashton, I have to know what's going on," she explained slowly to him, rubbing his arms. "I'll be right back, don't move." Lily turned away from Ashton, who was staring blankly down the corridor and began to weave through the crowd. She pushed aside a duo of sobbing Prefects. Her heart hammered painfully. Perhaps, even then, she knew.

But, of course, she wasn't prepared.

At the head of the crowd, crumpled to the floor but holding herself up by clinging to the railing, was Pippa Parsimoni. Her red, tear-filled eyes searched the faces of the surrounding staff as she wailed, "What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?" Her sobs echoed through the air like the ring of a death chime. Lily felt a shiver tickle her spine as she pressed closer to the railing, where the Auror she'd seen earlier had kept glancing. She didn't know what to make of the look on his face. Disgust? Fear? It was unclear so Lily took another step closer and carefully peered over the railing.

The ground far below was painted, like a canvas, in pure crimson. The earth-toned stone was smattered with red splotches that climbed up the staircase and across the nearest paintings, like killer red vines or the spluttering flames of a fire. Lily felt her hands creep up the side of her body and dig into her hair. She covered her ears and there was silence, save for the beating of her heart. _Thud. Thud. Thud._

She wanted to scream. Better, she wanted to look away. Her eyes swept across the ground, five floors below, and soaked in the sprawling crimson. Until, finally, her gaze settled on something strange. It _couldn't_ be human. But, it was. It had two arms, broken and twisted unnaturally. And two legs bent too far back. And, squinting, she could even make out a head that looked a little too deflated to be natural. Lily did not scream. She felt her jaw snap open as she began to shudder. This wasn't real, it couldn't be.

Someone pull her away from the railing and into the midst of the crown. Still shaking, Lily looked up into the hazel eyes of a bespectacled boy. James. She craned her neck back towards the railing, but he made her face him again. "Don't," he said quietly, but she still heard his voice tremble. Her hands clawed up once more and covered her ears. It was silent. She looked up at James and felt hot tears slide down her face. James looked around, on-edge. A minute passed and she put her hands down, letting the cacophony of the moment sweep her up once again.

"James," she whispered, and he looked down at her finally. "Emma Bridgewater is dead."

. . .

It was too familiar.

Lily clasped her hands together tightly and watched a spider scuttle beneath the bench in front of her. The torches were not lit. The only light within the Great Hall was that which came from the large windows at the front of the hall. Even the ceiling was not bewitched on this day. Marlene reached over to place her hand atop Lily's clasped hands; she gave a light squeeze.

The student body was unusually silent, save for the shuffling of feet as each of the four houses filed into the Great Hall in gloomy succession. Lily glanced down the row she sat in. James sat upright, face forward. She looked away, quickly finding Ashton within the rows of students. His head was hung. Then again, the entirety of Ravenclaw house seemed to have their heads hung. One house didn't deserve so much pain, Lily thought. She looked for Pippa Parsimoni, knowing that she had no right, but didn't find her anyway.

How wrong Lily had been about everyone...everything.

She bawled her hands into fists, her nails digging into the soft flesh of her palm. The professors stood solemnly upon the stage at the front of the room. It was an odd scene. Something she hadn't thought she'd see again when it had happened earlier that year. But…

Lily sucked in a breath of air. It was terribly unfair, she thought. The students sat up straighter, suddenly, as Headmaster Albus Dumbledore swept into the room from the doors of the Great Hall. This was odd, too, as the Headmaster had always entered from the doors at the front. Regardless, he approached his podium with a solemn sort-of grace. His robes were a downcast grey, much like the sky outside of the Hogwarts walls. Lily imagined it would rain. It would not be surprising if it did.

Resting his hands on the golden podium before him, Albus Dumbledore looked out upon the masses of students before him and nodded dolefully. "We are gathered here today to discuss the unfortunate events of yesterday evening," the Headmaster began. For once, he appeared to be choosing his words very carefully. He went on, "Last night, just minutes after curfew, our staff was alerted to activity on the fifth floor. What they, and the students present, found was the body of Miss Emma Bridgewater, a fifth year out of Ravenclaw house."

The entire room seemed to shiver. Dumbledore looked around, the twinkle absent from his eyes. Mary wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, mouth set into a small frown. Lily saw Dorcas' hand tremble out of the corner of her eye. She grimaced, looking back toward the Headmaster.

"Months prior, I spoke to you about the disappearance of another student. At the time, I promised you that Hogwarts would remain, as it always has, safe," he said. His face betrayed no emotion. Lily boiled just underneath her skin. How had she known? Even that day, she knew that any promise of safety was impossible in this world they lived in. She clenched her teeth as Dumbledore went on, "We cannot protect you from the world...or yourselves. Your fate rests in your own hands. Sometimes, your life does, as well. For Emma Bridgewater, I am told, she chose to make last night the end of her road. The burden that she carried we can never fully understand. But, it is with the greatest regret that we mourn her death and use her memory to make sure that such a terrible burden befalls no other student..."

Marlene grabbed Lily's hand again and squeezed tightly. Lily did not meet her teary gaze. Even the words of Dumbledore did not penetrate her numb mind. She felt it was indisputable that the string of events that lead up to Emma Bridgewater's death was knotted around her a million times. She felt a tug and knew that she'd pushed too far and said too much too many times. It was her fault. _Her. Her. Her._

 _Lily. Lily. Lily._

" _Lily_ ," The redhead looked up into the melancholy brown eyes of Mary MacDonald. "Let's go," she said, reaching for Lily's hand. She grabbed it and hauled Lily to her feet, leading her limply out of the Great Hall. It was empty. Lily wasn't sure when the assembly had ended or what else had been said. Could she have handled it? Her heart gave a terrible wrench. They paused at the steps of the Entrance Hall. A few scattered students were stationed along the staircase, silent whispers floating between them. "I think you should go see someone."

Lily blinked, eyes adjusting so that the brunette form of Mary was at last in focus. "What?"

"I'm going to take you to see McGonagall," Mary said, hand still wrapped in Lily's. "You're distant, Lily. Like mist. We're all afraid that you'll just suddenly fade away entirely. And I can't…" The brunette dragged her hand through her long locks. "I can't stand seeing you like this because I was the same way. I _wanted_ to just fade away. You need help, Lily. I know you saw what happened and...none of those kids are quite the same."

She didn't object when Mary guided her to McGonagall's office. She followed, numb, and let Mary tap her knuckles against the door and guide her into the quaint office of Professor McGonagall. Mary cast a long glance at Lily as she shut the door behind her, leaving Lily alone with the professor. "Have some tea and a biscuit, Evans," said McGonagall. Lily opened her mouth to decline, but McGonagall cut her off, "I insist."

Lily took the tea plain and held the dainty, warm cup in her hands. When she lifted it to her lips, the scalding tea was pleasantly cinnamony. "Thank you, professor," said Lily. McGonagall waved her off. "Why did Mary bring me here?"

The severe-looking woman softened, marginally, and set her teacup down with a light clatter. She folded her hands over her lap and looked at Lily squarely. "For many years, Miss MacDonald was a wretch to have in class. She was terribly frivolous and absolutely oblivious to lessons. And she was always talking," explained the professor, thin lips pressed into a frown. "The incident that occurred with Miss MacDonald, however, sparked an all-too-noticeable change in her, as a student."

Lily was not aware of what this had to do with her but politely listened on.

"The boisterous student became silent, almost reserved during class. With her friends, she was joyous enough, but she'd come into class and stare blankly at her book the entire time," she explained, "If the circumstances were different, I might have overlooked it. But, I was sure, then, that Miss MacDonald was suffering. I am sure now that she still is. And just the same, I can tell that you are."

"Professor, I…"

McGonagall silenced Lily with a stern look. "You saw the tragedy that befell Miss Bridgewater, I presume?" she asked. Lily nodded obediently. "I've grown old and these things do not trouble me so much as they would have when I was your age. That is a lot for a sixteen-year-old to take in, Miss Evans. And you still appear better off then some of the others."

Lily stared blankly at her Transfiguration Professor, her expression darkening with each passing second until at last, she let out a great sob. "Professor, it was me. It was all my fault. I kept pushing her to talk about things and making assumptions about her life. It was my fault. I did it," she cried hysterically, doubled over in her chair.

Minerva McGonagall watched the young girl with stony resolve. She had done and seen her fair share of tears over the years. Still, she felt her heart yearn for the grieving child. She frowned at the sobbing girl. "Miss Evans," she said clearly. The girl looked up at her, tears still running down her cheeks. "This is not about you."

"What?"

The professor adjusted herself in her seat, gave the redhead a very stern look and repeated, "This is not about you." Lily sat up straighter in her seat and gave the professor an incredulous look. "Miss Bridgewater was a young girl with a lot of pent-up grief. Her sadness was her own. Do not be so selfish as to assume that a beautiful, intelligent girl would choose to give up something as precious as life over a Gryffindor Prefect that bothered her a lot."

There was a silent pause, filled only with Lily's sniffles and the tap of rain on the window pane.

"You are making the death of another about yourself," said Minerva. "I ask that you not do that. This is not about what you think you caused her to do. This is entirely about what you are devastated you didn't do.

"Miss Evans, you wanted so terribly to save that girl from her suffering. But, you never stopped to consider asking someone for help. You put the burden of another life on your shoulders with no clear plan as to how you would protect it."

"B-But, P-Professor…" Lily tried.

The professor picked up her cup of tea and sipped it, watching as Lily began to slowly compose herself. "You are undoubtedly traumatized by the sight you saw yesterday," Minerva continued eventually, "I can give you something for that if you'd like. Otherwise, I suggest you take some time to think things through, Miss Evans. Write a letter, perhaps. Come to see me again, if you need to."

Lily stood up, taking her cue, and headed for the door. She stopped upon grabbing the handle. "Thank you, Professor," she said quietly, childishly. Minerva's lips quirked into a rare half-smile.

"Anytime," she replied, adding, "and Evans, if you notice someone suffering in the future...let me know."

. . .

It had been a week. Maybe less, Lily wasn't sure. Time didn't seem to flow the same since that night. And she'd spent less time looking at the clock since then, too. After all, it was all the same. Daytime classes bled into evening homework and sleep. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Lily was awake again that night. That was another thing that wasn't the same: sleep. She still had the vial of serum that Professor McGonagall had given her. It would erase a very specific moment from her memory.

Lily had not written about this yet, so she jotted that down. The parchment was slowly filling up. She dropped her quill into the ink and glanced around the empty common room. She had spent the past few evenings down here with her roommates, studying or completing assignments. They would ask her questions to keep her engaged. And she'd answer them with a smile.

In her first letter, she'd written that McGonagall didn't know what she was talking about. Lily was not selfish. She was not narcissistic. She knew that what had happened was directly linked to her. She knew it.

The next night, she admitted that maybe she should have told someone about Emma. When she'd written the name of the petite blonde, she'd sobbed too much to finish the letter, and so she'd finished it the next night before moving onto the third letter.

In the third letter, she realized that she was pitying herself too much.

And now, this was her fourth letter. Perhaps it hadn't been a week, after all. _McGonagall was right,_ she wrote, _I was selfish. Too cowardly and self-absorbed to realize that there was a family that had lost a daughter. But, still, I think about her every night. I wonder if she hated me. I wonder why she asked to see me if she planned to do that. I wonder if she was trying to make a point. When I close my eyes, I see her body…_ Lily stopped there, breathing heavily. She set the quill down again and ran her hands through her hair.

She bit her lip and picked the quill up again.

 _I talked to McGonagall again today and she asked if I had taken the serum. It's only good until a week has passed. Once a week passes since the event, nothing can be done. She told me to decide by then. How do I do that?_

Lily paused as a large cat she recognized as belonging to a fourth year prowled across the common room, blinking at her through the darkness. _I often wonder if I ought to talk to Pippa_ , she wrote, _I wonder if she'd even want to talk to me. She hated me. Or perhaps I should listen to McGonagall and have Pippa go to her. It would be good for her, no?_

 _Maybe I'm just trying to tie up loose ends. I don't know what to do, to be honest. Sometimes, I wish I'd never grown up. I'm not even properly an adult, but look at me: I'm a mess._

She sighed. _I found out today that McGonagall, who had acquired the serum through Slughorn, had given everyone that had been there a vial of it. Ashton told me. He also told me that he had taken it and that he'd finally been able to sleep after days of not being able to. Is it that easy? I wonder if you erase part of your memory...do you feel it? Do you recognize the gap in your memory? And are you curious about what might have belonged there?_ Lily dipped her quill back into the ink.

 _I guess I'm rambling on because I don't want to go to sleep. It's the first weekend of December tomorrow. And it's Hogsmeade, as well. Ashton didn't ask me to go with him...and I don't know that I want to, this time. He's great but I don't want to go out on a date with him while I'm feeling so down. That's not fair, is it? I guess I'd better sleep._

 _Wishing you the best,_

 _Lily_

She set down her quill and bottled her ink as the last few lines of her letter dried. When they had, she folded the parchment neatly and sealed it with the ornate seal her mother had boughten her for Christmas the year prior. She stared at it for a while, finally electing to reopen her ink to address it properly. That done, she stood at last. Quill, ink, and letter in hand, she started for the staircase, stopping to look back at the empty common room.

It would get better, wouldn't it?

. . .

"She writes letters every night," said Marlene over breakfast. Lily was absent, having slept in. "But, she hasn't sent a single one," Marlene continued, eyebrows furrowed. She took a long drink of her coffee and looked around at her friends. "It's a little strange, isn't it?"

"You should probably mind your own business," said Remus, who had come back from visiting his mother in good spirits, albeit a little battered. There was a chorus of agreement from the rest of the group, who found Marlene too nosy for her own good. Even Mary chided her for being so invasive:

"What are you, the letter police? Leave her alone,"

Marlene grumbled out her displeasure but returned to discussing Quidditch with Sirius shortly. It had been a week and Quidditch was no longer a sensitive topic. Even James joined in on a discussion about Puddlemere's Keeper. Dorcas seemed rather bored with the conversation, electing instead to flip through a Muggle magazine. She glanced up to find someone approaching the table. "Oh," she said at once, "Ashton, right?"

"Yes," replied the fifth year. "And you're Dorcas Meadowes. It's nice to finally meet you." He hovered awkwardly beside the table, grinning at Lily's friends. Mary offered him an emphatic greeting; Sirius managed a nod of acknowledgment.

"Please, sit," said Mary, gesturing to the seat normally occupied by Lily. The atmosphere quickly dipped into an awkward tension. "Erm, did you need something specific, then?"

"O-Oh! Yes," Ashton replied nervously, laughing uncomfortably. "I...Um. Pardon me if this sounds desperate but…" James watched him carefully. "Where might Lily be? I haven't seen very much of her at all this past week and I was wondering if something was wrong…"

He looked expectantly around the table but the response was even more muted than before. "Lily has been really busy this week," answered James, spooning more eggs onto his plate. "We haven't seen much of her, either. She's sleeping in this morning if that's what you wanted to know." Everyone stared at James in surprise. He shrugged and stuck a forkful of egg into his mouth. "She doesn't like the burdensome type, though," added James through chewing, "so keep that in mind."

"Okay…" Ashton said, giving James an unsure look, "Thanks. I'll be, um, going now. It was nice meeting you all."

With that, he got up and returned to his own table, scratching his head.

"Way to scare him away, Potter," groaned Mary. "He probably feels weird around you, anyway."

James looked at her with a raised eyebrow. Marlene rolled her eyes. "He likes Lily. Obviously. You're Poor Pining Potter. Get it?" James squinted at her. "Jesus, Potter, it means that you're the competition that isn't the competition, alright? He probably thinks that you'll try to sabotage anything they have."

"Why vould hee fink zat?" James asked, mouth full of food. Sirius laughed.

"Because you've done it before," offered Remus, shaking his head. He handed James a napkin, which he took and wiped the corners of his mouth daintily. "Anyway, I don't think you should risk pissing off Lily. She likes him, you should let her have that."

Sirius snorted. "He's kind of a tosser, no? I mean, those puppy-dog eyes? Please."

"He's sweet, unlike you, so shut it, Black," shot Mary, earning a high-five from Dorcas. Sirius feigned hurt at this; Peter guffawed. The girls rolled their eyes, standing. "We're going to go wake up Lily and give her some food," explained Mary, holding up a plate. "See you around."

"Hold on," said James, "can you tell her I need to speak with her?"

"Potter, I don't know…"

He clasped his hands together. "Please?"

"Fine," Dorcas replied. "But, if she says no, you have to just accept that."

. . .

It was late. James didn't really think that she would come down, even though Dorcas had told him hours earlier that she would. But, he'd stayed in the common room the whole day to wait for her. If she wasn't sleeping, then she simply had no intention of speaking to him. Maybe she'd said yes because she felt burdened. James scratched at an itch atop his head. The fire dwindled so James threw on another log, which made the fire crackle and spit as it grew larger once more. "Potter?"

James looked behind him to find Lily at the base of the girls' staircase. She blinked at him. She was in her pajamas, the long satin kind, and her hair was let loose down her back. Even in the relative darkness of the common room, her hair shone like the embers of the fire. She sat down in the chair next to him, setting the parchment, quill, and ink she'd brought down on the table beside her. "You came," James said, rather dumbly.

"Yes," Lily replied slowly, "I felt rather lazy today...sorry this is late."

"N-No, it's fine, I asked you, anyway."

They sat listening to the fire crackle and watching the flames periodically try to leap from the hearth. "What is it you needed to say, Potter?" Lily asked, eventually, fiddling with a loose piece of string on her sleeve. She looked toward him.

"It's been a strange week," he said, looking at the ground. "What happened at the Quidditch match...then Monday…" Lily winced, "...and, I don't know, things have just felt off."

"So?"

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "Usually, when someone dies, it's over. But, it doesn't feel like the end, does it?" he asked, his voice soft. Lily stared hard into the fire. She knew where the conversation was going. She didn't stop him, though, as she braced herself for what he was bound to say next. "I don't think she jumped."

" _Potter_ ," Lily finally said.

"She wrote you a letter asking for you to come to see her. That night, do you remember? You told me she never showed up while we were walking back," James explained, watching Lily's profile. "Tell me you weren't curious. Tell me it didn't strike you as strange that she'd do it at that time."

"I can't..."

James shook his head. "It doesn't make sense, Evans. And then..."

"I'm not doing this," Lily growled. "I am not getting caught up in your conspiracy theories again. You got to avoid the blast, Potter, but not me! I have to live with this. I have to live with the fact that she was going to see _me_. How do you think that makes me feel? And yeah, maybe that's me being selfish but god damn it, I can't get her out of my fucking mind!"

Lily got up quickly and reached for her things, but James was faster. He grabbed her quill and parchment, tore off a piece, and scribbled something down. He handed the slip to her, folded. "Look, I'm not asking you to look at it now," he began, "I'm not even asking you to look at it, period. Just...if even a fraction of you thinks that there's more to this, then open the paper before the end of this coming Monday. And come to see me, at midnight. If you don't show, then I'll leave it and you alone." Lily looked unsure. "Please, Evans."

She didn't respond, instead, she simply grabbed her things and rushed up the staircase, leaving James in her wake. He slumped against the back of the couch, tired.

It would be a long two days.

* * *

 _A/N;_ So, I put a warning at the beginning of this chapter because I know that this is _very, very_ sensitive content. I tried to base as much of the discussions in the chapter off of conversations I've had with friends that have gone through similar things. I think that grief and the effects it has on the human mind are important to talk about, especially in a story based in a world engaged in war. McGonagall's role as a "counselor" just made sense to me, considering all the tragedy she has experienced even up to this point, and I really do feel that it was important for someone to call Lily out on the selfishness of taking someone's death and making it about herself. That said, I understand if people feel bitter about how Lily acted at the beginning. But, I also think that she's human and as humans we make mistakes and we learn from them. So, that's my longer than usual note that I think is _very_ necessary!

Oops, not done yet (sorry this is so long, yikes). So, I've been updating this story every day since Chapter 5 and I'm curious as to your thoughts. Would you rather me stretch the story out or are you enjoying these frequent updates? I'm imagining it's the latter, but who knows! With that in mind, please review (shameless begging). I know that people are reading, which is great, but if you're not super anxious about it (as I can be, I get it), then drop me a review...even as a guest!

You know the drill, kiddos: follow, favorite, review (if you wanna)! [SIGNED, SAM]

 _CHAPTER TL;DR_ for those minding the trigger warning: Emma Bridgewater dies, Lily meets with Professor McGonagall and takes some time to reflect upon herself because 1976 is the year of realizing things, and James asks Lily to continue investigating.

 _Disclaimer_ : I'm not Jo, okay. Don't rub it in.


	10. Chapter 9

_***LONG CHAPTER AHEAD***_

 _Humanity is a curse we all must bear._

* * *

"Come here, my lily flower," her father said. She was small and he picked her up, setting her on his knee. She smiled and clung to her father, nuzzling into his chest, a baby bird in need of warmth. It was summer. The beautiful kind of summer that exists only in your childhood. The air was hot and sticky; Lily could smell the honeysuckle from the field just as well as she could smell her father's aftershave. He cradled her in his lap and they watched the son sink, golden, behind the big trees at the edge of their property. "I love you so very much," he whispered.

Lily awoke, a beam of sunlight hitting her eyes. It had snuck through a gap in her bed drawings. For a while, she laid still, eyes shut, soaking in the rare December sun and the fleeting memory of her late father. Then, she pulled the coverings aside and sat at the edge of her bed, basking in the warm morning light. She watched leaves blow by outside the window. It was December, but the first snow had not yet fallen.

Her gaze drifted towards her bedside table, where among other things, a small piece of torn and folded parchment lay. The curiosity she may have normally felt was drowned out by the immense dread that accompanied what that parchment meant. She shouldn't meddle in things. She _wouldn't_ meddle in things. Lily stood, snatching up the parchment, and approached the trash bin in the corner.

The paper remained balled in her fist, however, as she returned to her bed and replaced the parchment as it had been. Angry tears welled up in her eyes and slipped down her cheeks. Why couldn't she do it? She hated James Potter, for making her do this, and she hated herself, for being unable to let it go.

Lily sighed, wiping her cheeks. She grabbed her watch from the bedside table. 10:00. It was too early, still, to be crying. She fastened it around her wrist and settled back onto her bed, glancing around. As expected, the others had already up and left to start their days. She vaguely remembered that they had made plans to go into Hogsmeade (Lily had declined).

It had been almost a week since the events of Monday evening. Lily could only make sense of the time that had passed through her letters. She got to her knees, craning her neck to see under her bed. Normally covered in dust bunnies, the under bed area had been disrupted by the presence of a small jade green box. Lily withdrew the box from its place and stood back up, setting it next to a pristine letter on the bedside table. Opening the box, she counted four letters and after picking up the letter on the table, there were five.

The most recent letter was unsealed. Lily had written it with the sparse moonlight available in the room the night prior. After all, it wasn't as if she could risk seeing James in the common room. She settled into her bed, resting her back against the headboard, and opened the letter.

 _4th, December. 1976._

 _I miss home terribly. Not the home that now is, but the home that used to be. I miss running home on a hot summer day and having Daddy sweep me into one of his big hugs. I miss returning to Hogwarts and feeling everything click into place. I don't know what home is anymore when I feel so terrible wherever I go._

 _You don't know what that's like._

 _She was the one suffering, but God, I want so much to hate her. I want to hate her for what she did to my life that day. I want to hate her for changing everything._

 _But, then I remember that everything had already changed. It was all wrong from the moment we returned. Maybe even before that. Things aren't good here. It's not safe._

 _Sorry, I'm rambling._

 _James told me...well, I didn't hear much of what he said after his initial statement. "She didn't jump," he said. What the fuck do I do with that? Sorry. I just...I hate him for this. I hate him for making me doubt or believe or...I don't know._

 _I think I'm disappointed because of how his words made feel…_

 _Hopeful._

 _I thought I had moved past feeling bad for myself. I thought I had learned to accept that it wasn't about me and that I didn't do it. But, God, the guilt...it's inescapable. And suffocating. I can't sleep or eat or think properly. All I see, all I hear is her. But I hate myself even more now. Because if she didn't jump, then it can't be my fault, right? So, I was hopeful. And selfish. And stupid._

 _Now, I just don't know what to do. James expects an answer by midnight on Monday. McGonagall's serum will only work until 9 p.m. on that same day. So, what do I do? If I say yes to one, then I have to say no to the other._

 _Whose idea was it to grow up, huh?_

 _My head hurts, so I'll be off to sleep, then._

 _With regards,_

 _Lily_

Lily stared at the letter clasped in her hand. Was it pathetic to continue writing but never send them out? She folded up the letter, addressed, and sealed it. It took its place with all the others in the jade box, which she closed and placed back underneath the bed. No, she thought, it wasn't pathetic. It was cowardly.

The past week had made her feel less like a Gryffindor than ever before. Where was her pride? Her bravery? Her heroism?

Lily felt increasingly like the villain, even in her own story.

. . .

"I'm worried about her," said Dorcas. The grass, frozen, crunched underfoot as the three girls walked into Hogsmeade. Dorcas' kinky hair poured out from beneath her wool hat, her nose tinged a lovely shade of pink. Snow had yet to fall, but it was freezing nonetheless. "I think it's getting to her more than she lets on. And she doesn't want to ask anyone for help because she's Lily and she's too proud."

Marlene grunted her approval, shivering. Her cloak was a little too thin for this weather and she longed to get inside and warm up. "But, I can't even imagine living with that…"

They looked over at Mary, who was unusually quiet. Her expression was grim, despite the happy circumstances that had brought the three girls into Hogsmeade on that day. "I thought meeting with McGonagall would help her," said the brunette quietly, "but I'm afraid that this might go deeper than that."

"Deeper?" asked Dorcas.

Mary nodded. "I think something about the event has caught in Lily's mind...like when you try to jam a puzzle piece into a spot that doesn't fit. I suppose she _was_ a little more invested in Emma Bridgewater than most of the other people present," she explained, looking up at the sky ponderingly. It was a nice day; sunny, with just a smattering of clouds.

Hogsmeade began to spread out before them in a dizzying flurry of strung lights, bustling students, and boisterous taverns. "Well," said Marlene, "I want to help her. But, today is Mary's day. So, let's be happy, yeah?" The other two agreed, guiltily, and followed Marlene into the busy square of Hogsmeade. Mary looked around excitedly, as if in anticipation of some great event. It was stupid, she thought, to be so giddy. But, still, she beamed when she caught sight of what she was looking for.

"Brady!" she shrieked and ran up to a tall, lean boy. Their embrace was broken only as Dorcas and Marlene approached, eyebrows raised. The half-blood wizard that Mary had told them all about, Brady, was as magnificent as one would expect from Mary. He was clean-shaven and tidily dressed in Muggle clothing. His hair was a bit long and his eyes a striking shade of green almost akin to Lily's. His ears, as well, were pierced, and the two girls could swear they saw a moving tattoo peeking out from his collar. "Oh, Brady. These are my friends. That's Marlene," She pointed to the blonde, who gave a half-wave, before gesturing towards Dorcas, "and that's Dorcas."

"Dorcas?" he laughed, "Odd name."

She gave a curt laugh and replied, "So I hear!"

Greetings aside, they settled on relaxing in the Three Broomsticks. Where, as Marlene desperately pointed out, it would be much warmer. Dorcas, meanwhile, stifled her thinly-veiled irritation and made conversation with Brady (who was, in this case, _not_ as dumb as one might expect from Mary). "So, you work at Fortescue's?" said Dorcas, "I used to help out there when I was little. How's it doing?" Mary cast her a desperate glance as Brady's face suddenly fell.

"I was fired," he said shortly.

"Oh," replied Dorcas dumbly, looking away.

Marlene smiled and added, "Well, as they say: when one door closes, another door opens!"

"Yeah," laughed Brady. Mary hung back as they entered the Three Broomsticks, matching pace with Dorcas. She shouted for them to grab seats as she pulled Dorcas aside, where they wouldn't be seen.

" _Please_ be nice," she begged, eyes desperate. "I didn't tell him that you guys were coming and I think he's a little pissed about because he thought we'd be alone…" Mary craned her neck to peer over at the table Marlene and Brady had selected. Then, "I really like him. Honestly. He's so nice and generous, you'll see. He can just be...a little blunt."

Dorcas snorted. "A _little_."

The brunette gave her friend a serious frown. "Give him a chance! I know you'll love him," she finished, squeezing Dorcas' arm, and made her way over to the table that had been saved for them. Dorcas sighed, removing her hat and ruffling her hair, and followed Mary to the table. As they sat down, Brady and Marlene broke their conversation to welcome them back.

"What happened?" asked Marlene, both her and Brady staring expectantly at the duo.

Dorcas smiled. "Mary was just helping me with my hair. Something snagged on it...not pretty," she laughed. This seemed to satisfy everyone and they soon received the butterbeers that Brady had ordered for their table. "So, Brady, I don't remember you from Hogwarts. What house were you in, again?"

Finishing a sip of butterbeer, he set down the mug gently and grinned. "That's because I didn't go to Hogwarts," he said and Dorcas suppressed a cringe. Her parents didn't think highly of those educated outside of Hogwarts. After all, Hogwarts was the best wizarding school in the world. "I was homeschooled," Brady went on to explain, "my parents didn't have enough money to send me...and it's really hard to get in, anyway."

The three Gryffindor girls sat awkwardly, watching their butterbeer. It was hard to imagine a life without Hogwarts, for them. Even Mary, whose mother was a Muggle that owned little more than a small salon and a tiny two-bedroom apartment, had been able to put Mary through Hogwarts. And Dorcas lived a more opulent life than both Mary and Marlene combined. "That's cool," said Marlene at last, "your mother or father must be very talented to have taught you all by themselves."

Brady beamed. "My mother is brilliant," he gushed, "I don't know that I could ever match her talent." The girls listened to him go on about his mother, who had a small job in the Ministry which she sounded heavily over-qualified for.

"Have you ever considered applying to work at the Ministry?" asked Dorcas. "If you're interested, there are plenty of jobs related to homeschooled wizard curriculum that I think would suit you very well." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat at this and shrugged his soldiers. "With your experience, you could be a brilliant asset to the Ministry! Of course, the Ministry is a little…"

Dorcas rambled on, Marlene added comments (occasionally snide). Brady cast a glance towards Mary while the other two were distracted. She smiled back at him. "Or, if you'd like I could send my sister an owl and see if she has any positions open for the newspaper," said Marlene, looking expectantly at Brady. Again, he shifted uncomfortably.

"No, no, it's fine," he said, looking at Mary. "I'm not much of a writer."

"But, there's so many other—"

Mary scowled. "He said, 'No'. Leave him be," she snapped. She gave them a rather callous look before turning towards Brady with a kitten-like grin, "Let's go order another round of butterbeers, yeah?"

They made their way over to the counter, Mary purposefully letting her fingers slide against the back of Brady's hand. Brady called for more butterbeers as Mary stopped to greet a friend of hers from Hufflepuff. When she turned back to Brady, he looked a bit sick, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket. His jacket? Mary eyed the fleece lined coat carefully, frowning. When had he put his jacket back on? "Are you cold?" she asked, approaching, finally slipping her hand into his. They were warm; her frown deepened. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said, watching the barmaid prepare their drinks. Mary examined his profile carefully, reaching up to brush his jaw. "Mary, it's fine. You're fine. I'm fine. It's all _fine_ ," he said, letting go of her hand to grab the drinks. Mary trailed behind him as they walked back to the table. She tried not to dwell on the fact that he had only ordered three more butterbeers.

Marlene and Dorcas greeted them jovially as they returned, both hyper-aware of the downcast look on Mary's face. She didn't meet their gazes. "Another round, on me," Brady said cheerily, "but I'm afraid that I've got to go." Mary looked up at him, suddenly, brows knitted.

"You have to go?" she said quietly. Brady nodded. "Let me walk you out, then," she mumbled, resigned, slipping out of her seat. Brady did not grab her hand, stuffing his own deep into the pockets of his jacket instead and following Mary out of the Three Broomsticks. The other two watched them go, eyebrows raised.

"Was it us?" asked Marlene.

Dorcas frowned. "I don't think so," she said. They watched the door close behind Mary and her boyfriend. Outside, the air had only grown colder, and the wind that picked up gave a nasty bite to any exposed skin. Mary shielded her face with the thick wool scarf that Brady had sent her just a month prior. He had pulled in front of her and was ambling towards the square; Mary watched his back with silent, longing resentment. Why did he have to go?

At last, he paused in front of Scrivenshaft's. Mary glanced into the front windows. Was that Remus Lupin? She shrugged and looked back towards Brady, who had turned to face her and was examining her carefully. He approached, lifting a gloved hand to press against her cheek. For all of the growing up Mary had done, she had never lost the baby fat in her cheeks. They remained rather round, still, and currently rosy red from the cold.

In fact, everything about Mary was small: from her upturned, button-nose to her tiny stature. Even her hands, which dangled helplessly at her sides, were miniature in comparison to Brady's large, calloused ones. "I like you a lot, Mary MacDonald," he said at last and smiled sadly at her. "I think I might be the luckiest guy on the planet, because, for some reason, you seem to like me, too."

"Brady, don't…"

He laughed lightly. "No, I'm serious," he went on, "you are this... _porcelain doll_. And me? What am I...I didn't even go to Hogwarts. My mom is a _clerk_ at the Ministry, for God's sake."

This wasn't the first time this had happened. Mary was quick to respond: "It's not like I come from anything great, either. I'm Muggleborn! And my mother owns this shifty little salon…"

"But, look at you," said Brady, his frown turning darker. "I mean, look at your friends. That one girl...Dorcas? You think I don't recognize her? She's the daughter of my mom's _boss_." Mary shook her head, confused. How was she supposed to know? "Look, I get it. You want...you want the best for me. And you were trying to help. I mean, getting your friends to set me up with jobs. But, I'm just not like you Hogwarts kids! In the wizarding world, I'm the bottom of the bottom. Even if you're poor, as long as you go to Hogwarts, you've got a fighting chance. I mean—" He snorted indignantly, "—who the hell wants some no-name who was _homeschooled_."

Mary clenched her fists, frustrated. "You said it yourself, though! Your mother, she's brilliant!"

"Yeah," Brady said, "she is. But, who the hell is going to take my word for it? Even your fuckin' friends were pitying me!"

"They weren't!" cried Mary, feeling tears well up in her eyes. _Don't cry_ , she warned herself, _don't you dare_.

Brady sighed, turning his back on her. His shoulders heaved as he let out a long breath of air. "You don't know what it's like," he said quietly, back still turned. "You'll never know what it's like to be me. And I can't...keep pretending that I'm part of this fantastic Hogwarts world that you live in." With that, Brady looked to the ground, looked back up, and walked off. Mary bit her lip to keep from crying as she stared after him. Her heart hammered painfully, her fingers twitched. She felt the electricity of the moment even in her hair.

And then she exploded. "Don't be a coward, Brady!" she screamed, "Come back here. You can't just...Nobody walks away from _me_. You can't break up with me. I'm breaking up with _you_. You stupid, stupid boy. You little, mean man!" Passerby stared at her as she continued to spew curses at her now ex-boyfriend. The hot tears rolling down her cheeks stung as the cold air buffeted her. But, she didn't move.

"Alright, Mary?" came a voice. Mary turned, sniffling.

Remus looked at her, a hand scratching the side of his head. He looked around at the people watching Mary and smiled shyly. "Do I _look_ alright to you, Lupin?"

He made a face. "That's fair, I guess," he said, "shall I go find your friends?"

"James would have beaten my boyfriend up," said Mary by way of reply, standing rather limply in place, tears dissipating. Remus laughed.

"Well," he said, "I'm not James, am I?"

. . .

She had to get away from that piece of parchment.

Lily had stuffed it into the depths of her trunk, but still, it had lingered in her mind. So, she elected to get as far away as possible from it that day. For practicality's sake, as far away as possible was the farthest corner of the library. All the tables were occupied, so she curled up into a corner, back pressed against a bookshelf. It was the perfect spot, she thought, so long as she ignored the book to her left that kept whispering crude comments.

A weekend of wallowing had put Lily behind on her assignments, and unfortunately, no amount of grief would get her out of her Monday classes. Especially considering that she had a practical exam in Charms, highly dreaded among all of the sixth year students. "Came a little late, did we?" said the sniveling voice of Bertram Aubrey as he passed on his way to Lily's (well-known) favorite seat.

The redhead scowled. "Can it, Bertram," she hissed.

He turned away and Lily found her place in her book once again. Still, she found it hard to concentrate. _Stupid Ginger_ , the book beside her growled. Lily squinted her eyes at the book and mumbled something course. It silenced immediately. She grinned and again tried to focus on her book. But, who was scratching their parchment so much? Lily scowled at a scrawny third year who seemed oblivious to the noise she was making. Where was Madam Pince when you needed her?

Lily turned at the sound of voices coming from a nearby row of shelves. Why was everyone being so bothersome? The redhead rose to her feet and stalked towards the shelves. "Yes, I saw earlier…" came a familiar voice. Lily peered down the dark row, just able to make out two figures. "Oh, Lily."

She blinked as Ashton came into the light, beaming at her. "How long have you been here? I was just asking if anyone had seen you," he explained, chuckling. Lily glanced behind Ashton to find the same Auror from the other day. He cocked an eyebrow at her, his grin somewhat lopsided. "Have you two met before?" asked Ashton, looking between them.

"No—" began Lily just as the Auror said gruffly, "Yes."

"I believe you're the girl that needed to return fem-"

Lily laughed a little too loudly, flushing. "Yes, well, pleasure seeing you again," she said quickly and looked desperately towards Ashton. "I believe he wanted to talk about something, so we'll be off. You have a nice day, then, sir." The Auror watched them before turning around and strolling back through the row of shelves. "Do you know him?" asked Lily.

"Hm?" replied Ashton, blinking. "Oh, not really. I just asked him if he'd seen you."

"Oh," Lily sighed, nudging her books with her shoe, "well, here I am."

She needed to get back to work (her focus had already dwindled enough), but Ashton was looking at her expectantly. Lily sat down and encouraged him to do the same. "So," Ashton began and Lily looked to the ground, flustered for reasons unbeknownst to her. They weren't dating, she reminded herself. In fact, she didn't know if she _wanted_ to date Ashton. Having gone out with his brother, wasn't that a terrible omen for their relationship?

It occurred to her that Ashton might like her—it wouldn't be absurd. And, Lily thought, she probably liked him. Ashton was perfect. He was exactly the kind of sweet, caring, and thoughtful boyfriend that every girl craved. But, things were complicated. She had James Potter to deal with and the memories of events now passed. Lily knew that she, herself, would be a burden unto a relationship.

"I'm sorry I didn't ask you to Hogsmeade," he blurted out suddenly.

Lily looked up at him. "What?" He repeated himself. "Oh, my...Did you think I was avoiding you because I was torn up that you didn't ask me to Hogsmeade?" she laughed, staring incredulously at the boy next to her. He shrugged, flushing. "No, Ashton, I don't care. I wasn't even feeling up to Hogsmeade. I've just been...I don't know...Everything happened and I'm a little confused, you know? I need...I don't know what I need, actually."

"Time?" he offered. She met his gaze and sighed. Once again, Lily felt that it was such a shame that things had turned out as they had. Ashton was perfect; she was most certainly _not_. "I didn't mean to burden you, Lily...I, oh god. I'm so sorry. I just really, really like you…" he babbled. Lily stared at him. And, after a moment, he looked back at her, realizing what he had said. "I mean…"

Lily smiled. "Ashton, that is…"

 _Smack_.

They both swiveled towards the sound, which had come from the middle of the library. Five boys stood at the centermost table, glaring venomously at each other. "Oh, fucking hell," cursed Lily, standing. It was _just_ her luck. She had momentarily forgotten about the little slip of paper sitting at the bottom of her trunk. She had forgotten as well, and the guilt hit her just then, about the girl that had been splayed out five floors below her. But, these things never lasted.

Because, of course, it was James Potter.

And, to her horror, she recognized another figure. Severus Snape.

Lily paused in her tracks, already midway towards them. How history did repeat, she thought bitterly and shook out her trembling hands. Ashton stood behind her, looking confused. "Isn't that James Potter and Severus Snape?" he asked and Lily winced. The boy was perfect albeit slightly clueless.

She couldn't make out what exactly was being said from her current distance, but she saw Madam Pince approach, like a cat on the prowl, and saw just as well the rare scene of James and Sirius walking away. Severus seethed as his friends whispered into his ear, snickering. His hand twitched towards his wand; Lily's encircled her own. But then the Slytherins sat down and the library doors closed behind James and Sirius and Lily was left feeling befuddled, a terrible pit in her stomach.

She had to read that parchment.

. . .

The castle creaked and whined underneath the assault of the bitter, heavy winds. It was in this environment that Lily walked back to the common room, books clutched protectively to her chest. She had managed to restrain herself from going back for the parchment. Ashton left shortly after the James-Potter-Ordeal (as Lily thought most things should probably be called), feeling embarrassed after having confessed. Lily busied herself by thinking about the confession, rolling it over her tongue like a hard candy. It certainly felt nice but there was a distinction between flattery and feelings, wasn't there?

Lily cringed at the distant ring of Peeves' laughter. It was easy to get her mind off of the things in the comfort of the library. Her own dorm room was another story. Lily felt a desperate need to see what James had written on the torn piece of parchment. It had to be important enough to keep him from wanting a Monday detention, she had realized. Why else would he turn down a fight with his longtime foe, Severus Snape?

The loud snore of a nearby painting shook her from her reverie. _Ignore the parchment_ , she reminded herself. She'd already decided that she'd let the planned meeting with James come to pass. It wasn't worth the guilt she would feel. It wasn't worth the pain of reliving that night. Which meant she had to take the serum. The tiny bottle sat inside her bedside table, where the yellowish liquid would not be disturbed.

" _Felix Culpa_ ," said Lily to the portrait of the Fat Lady.

She smiled dolefully down at Lily and said, "Cheer up, sweetheart. It only gets better." Lily stepped into the common room, wondering if there was any truth to that. As it happened, things seemed only to be getting increasingly worse. She was proven correct when she spotted James lounging on the loveseat by the fire. The parchment sprung immediately to mind and Lily nearly cursed while rushing past him and up the staircase.

The dorm would be a welcome sight. Or so Lily thought. She opened the door to find the room in utter disarray. There were plates strewn across every available surface and covered in remnants of cakes, puddings, and jams. Dozens of boxes and wrappers of sweets littered the floor. The beds had been pushed together, Lily's included. Mary's vanity was a mess, the pressed powder she'd been so proud of at the beginning of the year broken into pieces. "Oh, no."

"Li-ly!" singsonged Mary, who was jumping on the bed. "You're back!"

"Y-Yes," she answered, pushing aside boxes of jelly slugs. Lily looked frantically in the direction of Marlene and Dorcas, who were collapsed into chairs, foreheads sweaty despite the chilly temperature. Mary caught air on her last bounce and jumped to the ground, landing in a crouch and dashing over to Lily, grabbing her by the shoulders.

Her smile was too wild and she had Fudge Fly wings caught in her teeth. "Guess what," she said, dragging Lily onto the massive bed. "Guess, guess, guess!"

Head swimming, Lily blinked at the brunette and replied, "What is it?"

"My _boyfriend_ broke up with _me_!" she cried, bursting into laughter as if this was the funniest thing she'd heard all year. Lily blinked. She had guessed that something along those lines had happened when she'd stepped in, but this particular time seemed worse than the others. Mary adjusted herself in the seat (which took a long time because she was jittery which made directing her body movements a struggle). "He said that _I'm_ too privileged which puts pressure on _him_."

Lily looked to Marlene and Dorcas, who nodded to confirm this. The redhead reached out to put a hand on Mary's shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Mary," she said, trying to meet the flitting gaze of the brunette.

She looked at her oddly, smile dimming quickly into a frown. " _Sorry_? Why? You didn't break up with me," She stood up and paced, releasing chuckles and whimpers as she went. "Isn't it weird how we always say that. Sorry. Why do we feel guilty for the pain of others? Even when we didn't cause it. Isn't it weird being human? And never truly being able to forget about the pain we've endured and the loss that we've experienced? So when something tragic happens to somebody else we tell them sorry because it's what we feel for ourselves. It's never 'sorry you went through that.' It's 'aren't we sorry for our pitiful selves'. Isn't that funny?"

Then, Mary collapsed.

The girls reacted quickly, carrying Mary to the massive bed and tucking her in. Then, together, they cleaned up the rest of the dorm. Lily picked up whatever was left of the candy and trotted up and down the stairs to gift it to some of the other Gryffindor girls. After all, none of them would want to even _look_ at candy for a while after Mary's episode.

It wasn't new, really. Mary had always done it when she was too upset to deal with things properly. She ate too much, gorged herself for all the times she had gone without. It was unhealthy. And every time they'd talk to her and tell her not to do it. And every time she'd find a way to get around them. On this occasion, Dorcas explained, Remus had found Mary and had taken her to Honeydukes at her request. He'd helped her take it all back, out of the goodness of his heart. Dorcas and Marlene had come back to this, just as Lily had.

Lily patted Mary's hair, which was sticky with sweat. She'd be so upset tomorrow, Lily knew. But, at that moment, fast asleep, she looked peaceful, at last. Long after the girls had all crawled into bed, sleeping side-by-side just as they used to in previous years, Lily slipped out from underneath the covers and crept towards her trunk. Marlene stirred. "Lily?"

"Go back to sleep," Lily whispered, "I'm just finishing something up."

Marlene grumbled sleepily. "Nah, you're writing letters," she said, but before Lily could respond, the blonde had already fallen back to sleep. She was right. Lily withdrew parchment, quill, and ink from her trunk. Her eyes could just barely make out the torn piece of parchment at the bottom of her trunk. She ignored it, closing the trunk, and tip-toed out of the room.

The common room was empty, as it usually was. Lily let out a sigh of relief. One of the Gryffindor cats curled itself between her legs as she sat down at a table. When she reached down to pet it, the cat batted at her fingers. Lily laughed and straightened out her things. She really should have gone to Scrivenshaft's when she'd had the chance. All of her writing was dwindling her store of parchment. She could ask one of her roommates for some of theirs, but she liked having her own. It would last, she hoped.

 _5th, December. 1976._

 _Today, Mary asked, "Isn't it weird being human?"_

 _What do you think?_

 _Today alone makes me think she's right. How can I feel so dreadful and so wonderful, all in one day? I'm struggling to take my mind off of that damn piece of parchment Potter gave me. And it made me feel terrible. I shouldn't be curious. After everything I discussed with McGonagall, I should have taken that parchment and thrown it in the bin when I'd had the chance._

 _But, I kept it._

 _And worse, I almost read it. It's all because of Potter. He didn't go after Sev._ Lily crossed the last sentence out with a sigh. _He didn't fight with Snape. I mean, what is that? He keeps confusing me._

 _Speaking of confusing: Ashton Kipling. What do I make of that? His brother was...everything he is, but absolutely awful. And Ashton is everything good about Asher. He's charming and handsome and endearing and I could just go on forever. But, Ashton is Asher's brother. Is that a sin? I'm getting ahead of myself. Do I want to be in a relationship with Ashton? He's a year younger...Is that scandalous? But, he's such a gentleman and so mature. I mean, sure, there are moments where his innocence and naivety poke through._

 _Like today, he accidentally blurted out that he liked me. I guess I knew. But, to hear it from him. Wow. It made me feel...like everything wasn't absolutely wrong. Of course, then Potter mucked it up, but that's Potter. Anyway, I know that Ashton will want an answer, now that he's said it. But, he also said he'd give me time...How long can you make someone wait? Because I need lots of time…_

 _My fear is that he doesn't know what he's getting into._

 _I feel strange, though, you know? I walked in on Mary having a breakdown. And she was freaking out, but...Is it crazy if I don't think she was just talking nonsense? We only feel guilty...because we see our sorrow...in others. I don't know what to make of any of it. Maybe it is just nonsense. Gah, I don't know. Growing up is hard. And sad. And enraging. And frustrating. And just…_

 _Wish you were here,_

 _Lily_

. . .

The House Elves made their delicious, much-loved cabbage soup only on Monday's. It had, much to their surprise, become such a fan favorite that even the pickiest of eaters made their way to the Great Hall early to get their fill of the soup. Lily and company were among those who had rushed to the Great Hall following their morning classes, eager for as much soup as they could stomach. They arrived to find the Marauders, mysteriously, already at the table. "Hey, you left after us, how did you get here first?" demanded Marlene as the girls sidled up. Lily took the seat farthest from James, which did not go unnoticed by anyone at the table, James himself included.

"We have our ways," replied Sirius enigmatically.

Dorcas snorted, setting her book down. "Translation: they broke at least three rules," she said, ladling soup into her bowl. Sirius shrugged, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. He took the spoon after her and filled his bowl to the very brim, licking his lips.

"It's too good," said Marlene, setting her spoon down. "I can't eat this; it's too good."

"Don't be dramatic," scolded Peter, reaching over to grab her bowl. She swatted his hands away. Lily sipped her soup quietly, glancing around. She caught Ashton's eye and he smiled; Lily choked very unattractively on a piece of cabbage, smacking her fist against her chest. Everyone looked at her strangely as a scarlet flush washed over her cheeks and ears.

Much to the chagrin of those around her, Lily had been clumsier today than was absolutely normal. It wasn't uncommon to see Lily trip over her feet, having worked herself into a tizzy on her way to class. But, today, she'd nearly mucked up her Charms exam entirely and had accidentally thrown her things across the corridor during a particularly emphatic sneezing spell. This was partially due to the deadlines that hung over her head. The vial of serum hung heavily in the pocket of her jumper; the parchment, however, she'd smartly left in her dorm.

But, just as detrimental were the effects of sleep loss. Everything was foggy. Even her memory, usually impeccable, had failed her a number of times. She'd gone to sleep late the night prior but the effects had only been compounded due to the early start she'd forced upon herself. Lily awoke and left before any of her roommates, leaving a note explaining that she'd went to see McGonagall.

It was this meeting, however, that weighed the most on her mind. She'd crossed a line, again. Professor McGonagall recognized it at once but said nothing. After all, her intentions were, in this case, absolutely pure. "Professor," Lily had said, eyeing the ground, hands clasped tightly around her teacup, "I've been thinking about everything you've said. And how you wanted me to tell you...if someone needed help." The professor watched Lily closely. "I think there is someone that could...use your help. You may have already spoken to her, but…Pippa Parsimoni..."

" _You nosey slut_ ,"

The words vibrated through Lily's spine. Before she could crane her neck to face the voice's owner, who Lily unquestionably knew, a cascade of near scalding liquid cascaded down her red locks, dripping onto her shoulders and into her lap. Lily gasped and clamped her eyes shut. Chunks of cabbage ran down her back, hitting the floor with a sloppy splash. Lily whipped around, blowing drops of soup out of her mouth, and shouted, "Are you _insane_?"

The professors sat at the high table rushed towards Gryffindor table and the girls at the center of the commotion, a task made difficult by all of the students that had leapt from their seats to spectate the oncoming fight. Lily dragged her hand through her hair, pushing soup base out of her sopping locks. "You told McGonagall to talk to Pippa. Why can't you just leave her be, for God's sake?" the taller of the Ravenclaw fifth years screamed. Pippa herself was nowhere in sight.

"I thought she could use someone to talk to!" screamed back Lily.

"She had us!" they chorused, stepping towards Lily.

Marlene and Sirius stood up behind Lily, who glared at them and snapped, "Sit back down." They looked as if they might protest, but Lily's venomous gaze kept them from defying her. The girls had almost pounced upon Lily when Professor Flitwick waved them aside with a flick of his wand. Lily breathed a sigh of relief. Not moments later, Professor McGonagall swept into the room, Pippa Parsimoni on her heels. She looked briefly at Lily, her frown deepening, and approached Flitwick. He herded the other Ravenclaw girls out of the Great Hall while Professor McGonagall approached Lily.

"Come, Evans," she said sharply, grabbing her by the arm and leading her out of the Great Hall, which had fallen into absolute silence. Lily didn't dare look over at Pippa Parsimoni, who had given Lily the sweetest of smiles upon entering the Great Hall. Lily knew exactly who had been behind the attack against her. _But, why?_ The Professor sat the girls in her office and shut the door. "It seems there has been a misunderstanding. Miss Evans, explain to Miss Parsimoni _why_ you had me meet with her."

Lily smelled of cabbage and savory broth. Her clothes were sopping wet, her hair a tangled mess, and in the drafty castle corridors, she had been chilled to the bone. Sitting beside her was, Lily suspected, the culprit behind her current predicament. The redhead glanced over at the pretty, fifteen-year-old blonde with the perfect teeth and pretty eyes. She didn't want to tell her anything. Why did she have to explain herself? She wanted to rip her pretty blonde hair out.

Still, Lily let out a long breath of air and trained her gaze on Professor McGonagall. "You told me that I should go to you instead of trying to help people on my own," said Lily. "I am someone who has lost my best friend, my sister, and my father in the course of two years. I know what it feels like to grieve. I saw that Emma was in pain and I wished to help her," Pippa's jaw clenched. "We haven't had contact since...then. But, I saw Pippa that day and I knew she was grieving. I saw myself in her and I felt burdened by it. So...I...wanted her to get the help I received too late."

Lily's shoulders sunk. Had that been it? There had not been a moment for her to breathe and yearn for all of the people she'd loved. When she'd returned home after her father had died, Petunia was distant and her mother was broken, so Lily carried the weight of it all. She didn't get to grieve because she had work to do. When she'd lost Severus as a friend, there was no time to properly figure things out. She picked herself up and moved on. Hadn't Emma been the same way? A grieving child in need of support. And Pippa, as well. Lily lowered her head. Of course, she felt guilty. She saw in the people she'd failed to help all of the mistakes she'd made in her own life.

It was weird, being human...perhaps even masochistic.

"I never asked for your help," Pippa replied plainly, staring directly at Lily. The redhead raised her eyes to meet Pippa's steely gaze. "I never asked. Neither did Emma. We were dealing with things in our own way. And you...you had to come in and shake everything up. You ruined us. You ruined everything...And I had to…" growled Pippa, breaking off to look away, shaking from anger.

Professor McGonagall looked between them. "Perhaps Miss Evans acted rashly, but she was looking out for your best interest, Miss Parsimoni. Emma's, as well," she said.

Pippa glared at the Transfiguration Professor. "Emma didn't need her help. She had me. I was handling things," she snapped angrily, standing. "Thank you for your time, Professor. All I ask is that I no longer be asked to be someone else's scapegoat."

Lily remained silent.

 _Why did she feel so wrong?_

. . .

"Professor, Lily didn't do anything wrong, she was just sitting there," yelled Marlene.

Sirius nodded emphatically, adding, "Those girls totally nailed her with that soup. What a cheap shot. I mean, can you believe that, McGee?"

"I'm kind of crazy, Professor, as you know, and _I_ wouldn't even do that," said Mary.

Dorcas had her arms crossed over her chest. "Do they _know_ how long it's going to take to get the scent of cabbage off of her? Do they _know_ who rooms with her? Do they _know_ that they splashed some on _my_ book?" she growled.

"I would like to add that we were all sitting around Lily, Professor, and we directly witnessed everything that happened," said Remus, looking concerned as he glanced at Lily.

"I agree!" shouted Peter.

James sighed. "Listen, Professor," He shook his head in disappointment. "It was _probably_ Evans' fault. Ow, Dorcas!" He dodged a blow from the tall girl. "I'm just saying, Evans _always_ starts it!"

Minerva McGonagall narrowed her eyes at the students piled in front of her door, very clearly skipping class to do so. "McKinnon, Black, Meadowes, Potter...if you miss one more class, I'm kicking you off the team," she said, which sent them scattering. "As for you two, Lupin and Pettigrew, please escort Evans back to Gryffindor common room before going to your classes. And, I assure you, she is _not_ in trouble."

Lily pushed through to walk in front of Remus and Peter, shoulders sagging. They followed her, glancing between her and each other. "Lily," Remus said eventually, "are you...I mean, you didn't get hurt, right?"

Her mary-janes made a squelching sound as she ascended the stairs. Lily sighed. "I'm soaked and I smell awfully savory," she said, "but no, I'm not hurt." Her shoes made another terrible sound and the three laughed. "On second thought," Lily added, "my pride is a _little_ hurt."

"The good news is that everyone already knows!" said Peter.

Remus and Lily gave him a sideways glance as Remus asked, "How is that good news?"

Peter frowned. "I suppose you're right, it's pretty terrible," he said quietly. Lily laughed loudly, holding the railing of the staircase to keep from slipping. They kept chatting throughout the walk back to the common room. Lily wondered, privately, if they were trying to keep her in high spirits. In the common room, they parted ways, neither of the boys looking too pleased at having to go back to class. Lily wasn't necessarily thrilled to miss class but she couldn't stomach going to class drenched in cabbage.

The dorm was still a mess, so Lily tidied it up after coming back from her bath. She had scourged out as much of the scent as she could but she feared that a good sniff of her hair would still leave someone with a hint of carrots. She placed her fifth letter in the jade-colored box, considered sending the letters, but decided against it and slipped the box back under her bed. Tired, Lily took a seat atop her trunk and drummed her fingers on her thighs. She was bored.

Days of incessant worrying and anxious thought had kept her occupied but now that she felt at peace, there was a gap she needed to be filled. Lily's mind wandered to the parchment at the bottom of the trunk she now sat on. Her fingers moved of their own accord, toward the latch, but Lily snatched them back. She still couldn't stomach the thought of digging deeper into something that didn't concern her. Pippa was right. She had meddled in something without permission.

Lily put it off; she had time.

The vial, however. Lily craned her neck to look at the vial, which she had placed on her bedside table for safekeeping while she bathed. The sunlight glinting off of it made it wink at her. How easy it would be to forget everything and live so innocently again. If she could just get her out of her mind, she could go back to life as it was, right?

...Right?

No. Lily approached the table and grabbed the vial, cradling it in her palm. What she'd failed to realize sooner was that the pain she felt could not be erased by taking away that gruesome image. She didn't know _how_ it could be erased but she knew that it could not be as simple as getting rid of the evidence. Maybe for the others, who hadn't been invested in the life of the living version of Emma. It didn't matter if Lily took the serum and forgot all about what happened after she peered over that railing.

The girl she'd grieved for and wanted so direly to protect from her own fate...

That girl would still be gone regardless.

. . .

"You gave the serum back to McGonagall?"

Marlene looked as if she'd swallowed a toad. "That's what I said," Lily replied, hopping over the trick step. She was full and content from dinner. It seemed the entire school was surprised to see her down there. They must have thought that she'd fear another cabbage soup incident. "I don't know if I necessarily believe that anything can completely remove your memories."

" _Lily_ ," Marlene cried, "this is _magic_ we're talking about. Anything is possible!"

"Oh, Marlene, don't act like you're the authority on memories," said Mary.

The girls stopped to help a third year that had been jinxed. "Kids _are_ awful these days," Dorcas sighed, "this wouldn't have happened when we were in third year." The Marauders ran past them, shooting slugs at Jonah Nix and Klyde Klements. The girls all turned to Dorcas, who rolled her eyes, "I was joking, obviously. Those dunces still pull this kind of crap."

They entered through the portrait hole and dispersed; Mary had a friend to meet with, Marlene was going to try to talk to Jonah (in his moment of despair, covered in slugs), and Dorcas needed to ask Sirius to return something. Lily stood off to the side, watching the students, her friends among them, milling about the common room. A smile tugged at her lips.

"That's rare," came a voice. Lily looked over to find Remus. She gave him an inquisitive look. "You just randomly smiling. It's been a while. But, things have been…"

"Tense," Lily finished.

Remus nodded sagely, "You could say that. You're feeling better, though? Less leafy green?"

Lily snorted. "Hardy har," she said, "but I am feeling better. I think that I wasn't looking at things correctly. Seeing problems in everyone else except myself. And now…" She looked around the common room, noticing James playing a game of gobstones with some underclassmen. "Well, it's different, still. It always will be...But, that's good. It's metamorphosis. The only thing is...I can't help but feel like I'm missing something. Like there's a piece that still needs to be clicked into place. I don't know, is that ridiculous? Should I...I mean, should I just move on?"

The Marauder looked at Lily as if she was a painting he was trying to understand or a riddle he'd yet to solve. "It might be easier to let things be," he said, "and sometimes they work themselves out, don't they?" Lily nodded. "But, the face you're making now tells me that that's not enough for you. I think I know a little about you, Lily, and you're just not the type to follow things halfway. If you're not afraid of getting your hands dirty, then work it out. Figure out where that piece is."

"Are you speaking from personal experience?" Lily asked before she could stop herself.

His gaze changed, again. But, Lily couldn't figure it out, this time. "I suppose I'm still trying to figure out what's missing, yes," replied Remus honestly. "But, unlike you, I'm too scared to look too hard for it."

The Marauders really did have a knack for being (infuriatingly) right.

. . .

" _Lumos_ ," whispered Lily and the tip of her wand grew a small ball of white light, just big enough to illuminate the contents of her trunk. It was late. She had fought with herself over it a million times, but each time she came back to the trunk, opened it, and looked down at the measly piece of parchment. To Lily, the parchment was a key. Should she open it, it would open a door that she could never close. That was the feeling it gave her. _No_ , she amended. That was what she knew.

Trembling fingers picked the scrap up from its place at the bottom of the trunk and clasped it tightly. Lily pointed her wand at her wrist and read, 11:55. She needed to make a decision.

She sat gingerly on the edge of her bed, feeling the rough edges of the parchment against her palm. Was this a door she wanted to open? Was this a world she wanted to expose herself to again? Lily didn't know what could possibly be contained within the confines of the torn edges. However, the secret it held was alive. It whispered to her—quietly, seductively.

Lily closed her eyes.

Emma Bridgewater was fifteen. She had lost her best friend, just as Lily had. But, whether she liked it or not, Lily had still chosen her path. Emma did not have that chance. She'd risked Pippa's wrath to deliver a letter to Lily, one that specified a meeting place and time. She had wanted to meet Lily. She had something to say. And yet, all too conveniently, she'd died before the words could leave her mouth. And Pippa...Lily recalled their meeting with McGonagall. And the influence she exerted over her friends, who had doused Lily in hot soup. These things didn't taste pleasant on Lily's tongue and didn't sit right in her heart.

The missing piece was the truth.

And when Lily opened the parchment, she knew that that was the only way she'd get any closer to it.

Her eyes hadn't even fully left the opened parchment by the time Lily dashed out the door and down the girls' staircase. She was breathless by the time she reached the end of the stairs but the dash had nothing to do with it. Lily looked around the empty common room, panicked. _Had he left?_

"Evans?" Her head snapped in the direction of the voice. Groggy-eyed, bespectacled, messy-haired James Potter stared back at her from the base of the boys' staircase. "I waited, but I thought you weren't…"

"Potter, is this true?" Lily held up the parchment. James' eyes widened at her tone and he nodded, scratching the back of his neck as he bridged the gap between himself and Lily. They both looked at what he had written on the parchment. Lily looked up at James. "How did you get this information?"

"I was walking through the corridors last Friday when I heard voices," he began but paused. "I, uh, hid. And these two girls walked past. Ravenclaws. Fifth years. I didn't mean to listen to them, but then…" He kept running his hands through his hair and shifting his weight from foot to foot. "They started talking about Emma. What they said...is what's written on that parchment...and they weren't kind about it, either."

Lily looked down at the parchment. "I can't even imagine…" she whispered, hands trembling, "the pain she must have…" Lily couldn't help but keep re-reading the parchment.

 _E.B. loves P.G._

 _Emma Bridgewater loves Priscilla Goodwin_.

* * *

 _A/N;_ Uh, yep. Sorry for the long chapter? This isn't actually...actually, it might be the longest chapter, I'm not sure. About 20 pages on Google Docs, but I think the longest one was 22. Anyway, I'm having a lot of fun writing this…but I don't have the next chapter pre-written, which is giving me _slight_ anxiety. I'll figure it out.

But, are you enjoying it thus far? Leave me a review and let me know!

Yep, that's right: follow, favorite, maybe even review (if you're just that cool)! [SIGNED, SAM]

 _Disclaimer:_ I wouldn't have killed Remus Lupin. So, no, I don't own the Harry Potter series.


	11. Chapter 10

_***THIS ONE? WAY LONGER THAN THE LAST CHAPTER.***_

 _We play games with each other to see who will break first._

* * *

All around Hogsmeade, the shopkeepers bustled about, levitating decorations onto the eaves of the buildings and scribbling out special Christmas-time sales with feverish hands. It seemed that everyone, even the town's residents, had taken this day, just weeks before the Christmas holidays began at Hogwarts, to get properly into the holiday spirit.

Everyone except one person.

Frank Longbottom bustled into the Auror's Quarters, unwrapping the tattered scarf from around his neck and brushing fallen snow from his shoulders. He grumbled out his displeasure, nose glowing red, as he hung the rest of his things up and entered the workroom. On this cold day, it was surprisingly full. Four of the Aurors remained at Hogwarts while the other four, Frank included, were given the day off. Frank himself had just returned from the Ministry.

"What d'ya have there, Frankie-boy?" called out a middle-aged witch with scraggly brown hair.

Ruffled from the festivities occurring outside, Frank sat heavily at his desk. "Files," he grumbled, "I'm doing a bit of a side project. Nothing important." The witch shrugged, turning back to the game of wizard's chess she was playing with one of the other Aurors.

That's when Alice showed up, fresh from the cold, carrying four bottles of butterbeer. "Happy Holidays, everyone," she said, beaming. Alice set down the bottles in front of each of the Aurors, putting Frank's down last. She settled down in the armchair in front of Frank's desk. "I got them fresh from Rosmerta...had her warm them up and everything," she said expectantly, eyeing Frank. She had yet to take off her thick wool hat, which was a festive green and red.

"I don't like butterbeer, actually," said Frank, not looking up from his work, "too sweet."

Alice scowled. " _Fine_ ," she snapped, snatching up the bottle. "I'll just give it to Kingsley when he gets back."

"That's quite alright with me," replied Frank.

The blonde's grip on the stem of the bottle tightened. "I wasn't asking for your permission," She glanced over at the files he'd assembled on his desk. They didn't look very old. "What's that, anyway?" Frank went on as if she hadn't said anything. Alice stood, then, and rounded the desk to peer over Frank's shoulder. "Priscilla Goodwin…" she read softly. Frank looked up at her; she was standing _far_ too close. "Why are you looking at this?"

"None of your business," he answered shortly, eyes darting over to the two Aurors sitting some ways away. Alice blinked at him, nodded, and sat back down. Frank cleared his throat, closed the files, and asked, "Are you going to visit Potter at the castle? See how he's doing?"

"I was planning on it," Alice said boredly, taking a long sip of her butterbeer. "Why?"

"I think I'll come with you,"

. . .

The Entrance Hall was nearly empty.

Lily descended the steps quickly, taking notice of the messy-haired boy lounging at the end of the stone banister. "Potter," she said by way of greeting and he turned to give her a grim smile, hand immediately disappearing into his hair, which he gave a tousle. "I'm glad that you're here, I need to speak with you."

"That's a first," he said and Lily gave him a distinctive _not now_ look. He leaned his back against the railing and watched Lily fold her arms over her chest as she approached him. "I'm assuming this is about the...parchment."

"Yes," Lily said quickly and took a nervous glance around the hall. The nearest students were at the Great Hall and they wouldn't be able to hear them. Still, Lily lowered her voice as she went on, "I think that we should go to the professors. I mean...we don't even know that anything else is going on. Her...circumstances...could have just contributed to her choice. And the professors could make a speech...or…"

James shook his head. "What about how her friends acted? And Priscilla...and the note Emma sent you…"

"That's the thing, I'm wondering if we should just let them know everything," Lily tried, searching James' face. "Potter, don't you think her parents should know? They should know that their daughter's suffering was...I mean, all she wanted was to be accepted, you know?"

"I know, Evans, I get that," He pulled at his hair, frustrated. "But, come on, you think everyone's like us? You think everyone's happy to let people just live their lives? God, no, people are... _awful_. And we can't be sure that the professors aren't the same. They might not even care. Same thing for their parents." Lily frowned. James went on, "I don't know. I just keep thinking about the things their friends said about them. To call someone you love a...freak...an abomination...I mean…"

James looked up at Lily, serious.

"I don't think that friends should be disgusted by their friends," he said, "I just don't think it's right."

The redhead stiffened. "Now, listen here, Potter," she growled, taking a dangerous step forward. "Don't you _dare_ make this about me. This is not an intervention. I know what I...No, I _know_ the mistakes I made. I don't need your holier-than-thou attitude."

They turned at the sound of a loud sneer and approaching feet. "Of course," said a deep voice, belonging to a boy known only as Avery, "Lying Lily and Pompous Potter."

Lily scowled. "I am not a liar," she bit and James gave her an incredulous look. It was just like Lily to throw a fit over being called a liar. " _And_ I have no interest in talking to you lot," she continued bitterly, eyes landing on Severus Snape, whose dark hair was long enough to hang to his jaw.

"I always _knew_ ," he hissed. Lily could recognize his voice anywhere; he had the same accent as her. "I always knew that you'd fall for the _pitiful ploys_ of _Potter_ ," Severus went on, spittle flying from his mouth as he grew closer to the stairs. "And look at you know?" He scanned Lily's thin frame. "So...disappointing."

James had not moved from his spot against the hard banister, even as Snape grew ever closer. Ruffled but not scared, Lily looked back at James, "You should go. They're only doing this to get a rise out of you," she said plainly, loud enough for the gang of Slytherins to hear her quite clearly. Snape scowled; Lily watched his wand hand all-too-carefully. She wasn't the naive girl she had been in years past. Lily knew well what Severus and his friends were capable of. It was their own fault that they doubted _her_ so severely.

There was a moment in which Lily thought James might decline and stay beside her. But, instead, he nodded and trotted up the stairs, utterly calm. Lily relaxed. These type of things were easier when James wasn't around to throw a wrench in her plans. After all, the Marauder had a knack for getting himself into trouble.

But, apparently, so did Lily.

Mulciber had withdrawn his wand in the midst of things and pointed it squarely at James' back. Terrified, Lily didn't spare James a glance before taking her own wand out and aiming it at the forehead of the nearest Slytherin. This just so happened to be one Severus Snape. He gaped at her as if _he_ was the last person he'd expected her to go after. "Put the wand down, Mulciber," she snapped.

He grinned at her. "You won't do anything, Evans."

"Are you so sure?" she said and met his gaze with deadly resolve. Her gaze flicked momentarily to the stairs, which James continued to ascend, absolutely unaware of the chaos happening below. _He's almost there_ , she thought desperately. "This could be very messy for both of us, Mulciber, and if I recall...you can't afford another mishap, can you?"

He hesitated. "Fuck you, Evans," he spat, holding his wand out for another second before replacing it inside his robes. The others did the same but Lily turned to make sure James had gone before removing her wand from between Severus' eyes. "All you Gryffindors think you're invincible," Mulciber growled, climbing the stairs with the rest of his gang in tow, "but you'll see. You'll all see."

Severus lagged behind, staring at Lily.

When at last he began his ascent, Lily grabbed him by the arm, frowning. "If this happens again, I'll tell," She glanced down at his arm. "I'm sick of this back-and-forth. You had a choice; you could have chosen me. I'm not going to keep paying for the mistakes _you_ made…"

"I didn't have a choice," he said plainly, dark eyes meeting hers, and escaped up the stairs.

. . .

Of course, Lily knew that Severus and his friends had already pledged themselves to the so-called Dark Lord. It had been the greatest factor in ending their friendship. Perhaps there had been signs before the day of the DADA O.W.L. but that hadn't been the beginning or the end.

Severus Snape lived no more than a mile away. It was this proximity that had made their friendship so natural. And it was the reason why Severus knew where to find Lily the summer before. It was also part of the reason she began to spend so much time _away_ from home, that last summer.

Just days after she'd returned home from Hogwarts, exhausted and ready for months _without_ any reminder of what had happened at school, Severus showed up at her doorstep. He didn't look well. Lily did not invite him in, however. They walked to the field at the end of her road and stood under the huge branches of the tree they used to meet under. Severus looked at Lily; Lily looked at the ground.

"I don't want an apology," she said, looking up at last, "it's already over and done."

He didn't say anything.

Lily rubbed her arms even though she wasn't cold. "I didn't realize that...whatever that man is preaching...mattered that much to you."

"He's going to make things good for us, Lily,"

"Yeah, for you," she bit back, frowning. "Don't say 'us' when you know it's just 'you.' I'm not like you. I'll never be...like you. And so long as people keep supporting that man and people like him, then things will never be good for me or people like me. You don't get that?"

"Well, do you think that _James Potter_ is like you, then?"

Lily turned her back on Severus. "I never said that."

"Or is it Asher Kipling?" he said, venom oozing out every word. He approached, grabbing Lily's shoulder. "Is that it? You think that a guy that shags you on the fucking Hogwarts Express understands you or something?"

Still, Lily did not look at Severus. Her shoulders shook and her mouth opened but no sound came out. _So, he knew_? She wondered who else knew. She wondered, even though her once best friend stood right in front of her, who else knew that she had become a desperate slag. Finally, calming, she spoke through shaky breaths, "Don't come to my house ever again. Don't approach my mother or my sister. Don't look for me or ask for me. We're done here."

And just like that, Lily left, knowing that things weren't done.

But knowing, just as well, that things were irreparable.

It had been hours since the incident but still, she elected to skip lunch to go to the library and clear her mind. Classes wouldn't start for another half hour and there were things she needed to know. Lily headed for the Muggle Studies section, the blandness of which usually kept her away. After all, why were wizards so fascinated by simple things like mixers?

The section was expansive for reasons that Lily could not comprehend. What was so hard to understand about Muggles? They were absolutely the same as wizards except for in one critical area: magic.

Either way, Lily didn't know very much about the workings of sexuality, Muggle or otherwise. And she imagined the only place it might be discussed would be in a book on Muggle Studies. It wasn't that she didn't believe James but she certainly didn't see him as the most reliable source. She wanted to understand Emma and Priscilla. More importantly, she wanted to understand what they were up against.

"Muggles and Salamanders," Lily read quietly, brow creasing. "Muggles and Serpents," she continued, shaking her head. At last, she lit up at the sight of a very unused book by the name of, "Muggles and Sexuality." Lily grabbed the book at once and made to open it, stopping only as someone appeared beside her, peering curiously over her shoulder.

"What's that?" asked Ashton, smiling. He had a bright, crooked grin on his lips. Lily held the book against her chest and tried for a casual laugh. "What are you doing in the Muggles Studies section? Pardon me, but aren't you Muggleborn?"

The redhead bit her lip. "I'm just...curious. Is that so wrong?" she asked. Ashton shook his head vigorously. "This is just a book about, erm, mixers. Fascinating stuff, really."

"I've always thought so," Ashton said genuinely, eyeing the book. "I mean, why don't Muggles just do it by hand?" Lily opened her mouth to argue that they _did_ , her own family didn't own one of those fancy electric mixers. But, remembering her situation, she smiled and shrugged. He walked with her to the front desk, where she checked the book out with Madam Pince (who gave her a very serious once-over), and watched her as she shoved the book into her already full bag. "So, anything important coming up, these next few weeks?"

Lily thought for a moment and shrugged. "Well, I have a DADA practical on Friday. With Wydalcus...should be horrible," she began. Ashton laughed. "Next week should be a little dull, but I don't particularly mind. Better dull than...anything else."

He nodded and recounted the sparse details of his own schedule for the coming weeks. It was comfortable, Lily thought as they walked around the corridors, directionless. "Is there something on your mind?" he asked eventually after a long period of silence from Lily. She frowned, glancing out at the snow falling on the grounds.

"Oh, not really," she sighed. "I guess I've been a little distracted recently, don't you think?" Ashton nodded slowly. One of the things she liked the most about Ashton was how closely he paid attention. There had never been a moment when Lily thought that he was ignoring her or thinking about something else... _someone_ else. His eyes followed her every move and he hung on her every word. Maybe it was the attention-seeker in her but she couldn't help but crave their conversations because of that. At last, Lily decided to just ask: "This is random, but if someone you knew...a good friend or a sibling or something...was attracted to the same sex...how would that make you feel?"

Ashton blinked at her, surprised. He was so taken aback that he looked away, a hand immediately coming up to scratch at a spot behind his ear. "You're right, that was random," he said slowly, appearing to still be deep in thought. They paused at the end of a corridor and he looked up, grinning goofily. "I guess I wouldn't care. If they matter that much to me...then yeah, I wouldn't mind. But, I can't say it wouldn't be, uh, uncomfortable," he said and quickly went on at Lily's sour look, "I mean, I've never met someone...like...that. So, I wouldn't know how to...you know."

"It's not like they've _changed_ ," Lily said calmly. "You wouldn't have to act...different."

The distant sound of students leaving the Great Hall following lunch traveled down the corridor. Ashton laughed awkwardly. "You're right, Lily," he said, "of course." She eyed him curiously but didn't press the matter.

"I should go," she said. "I have Defense."

Ashton nodded and waved as Lily trotted down the corridor, looking back once to smile at him. He meant well, this she knew. And it wasn't as if this was a common conversation, by any stretch of the imagination. But, still, Lily thought of what James had mentioned earlier. It was ignorant to think that everyone would be as open-minded as them. If Ashton could be slightly prejudiced—Ashton who was, by far, the nicest boy she'd ever met—then that only opened the doors infinitely wider for the rest of the population.

What did that mean for Emma? For Priscilla?

. . .

"Where were you?" whispered Marlene as Lily took her seat, breathing heavily.

Pushing her hair behind her ears, she offered her blonde friend a small grin. "The library," she answered truthfully, and then leaned in, "with Ashton." Marlene's eyes widened considerably as she broke into a grin. They high-fived underneath the table. "Not that anything happened," Lily added after a minute, eyes trained on the notes she'd taken from her bag.

"Bummer," Marlene whispered, giggling.

"Is something _funny_ , Miss McKinnon, Miss Evans?" called Wydalcus from the head of the room. The class had just begun. The rest of the class stared expectantly at the two Gryffindors. They both shook their heads obediently and muttered out apologies. Wydalcus managed a thin smile before turning to address the class as a whole, "If anyone else decides to disrupt class...I'll see to it that your seats are switched, _permanently_."

Mary and Dorcas peered sympathetically in Lily and Marlene's direction. Once the class had fully resumed, and Lily realized that she had already learned the material for that day, she withdrew the book she'd picked up from the library. Marlene stared off into the distance as Lily opened the book, which thankfully paid striking resemblance to the DADA textbook. "Though for many years it has been widely known that wizards and muggles mate exclusively outside of their own sex, recent findings suggest that some deviants exclusively prefer same-sex relationships…" Lily glared at the word 'deviants.' _Wasn't that too pointed of a word?_

She read on for several minutes, soaking in the information. Valuable as it was, it was not necessarily what she had been looking for. She made to close the book but a leathery hand had descended upon the spine of the book, dragging it up and out of her reach. Lily knew, with sudden dread, who had snatched her book. She swallowed thickly and looked up into the piercing, angry eyes of the Defense Professor.

"Do all of you Gryffindors _aim_ to anger me? Or is it just a consequence of your...nature?" asked Wydalcus sharply. Lily scowled. It seemed to her that the _professor_ aimed to steal everything precious away from his students. Lily watched him adjust the book within his hands, withdrawing his glasses from the pocket of his dark coat so as read it. " _Muggles and Sexuality_ ," he scoffed. Several students shifted uncomfortably in their seats. "Don't tell me that you believe this nonsense?"

Lily held her head higher. "I do, in fact," she responded. The class was silent. "What's so wrong about being with who you love?"

"What's so _wrong_?"

Sirius scowled. "Professor, I think you have an awful habit of throwing away opinions you don't agree with," he snapped, "and that's not very befitting of an intellectual."

"As an _intellectual_ , I think I can say with finality that any relationship unable to bear children is simply...wrong!" he argued, glaring at both Lily and Sirius. A few students mouthed their agreement, much to Wydalcus' pleasure. The two opened their mouths to retort but Wydalcus quickly added, "Now, let's continue with our _lesson_ instead of this nonsense."

James stood up, resting his hands on the desk in front of him. "I think that your _lesson_ is nonsense!" James shouted. He was red in the face, his glasses askew. "And why does every relationship _need_ to bear children? It's not like you _need_ children to be in love!"

As the class quickly descended into an argument, with a selection of students voicing their opinions on the matter ("It's unnatural!" cried a Ravenclaw as a Hufflepuff screamed, "It's all love!"). Lily looked gratefully over at James and Sirius, who grinned back at her. It seemed the class would have to be canceled entirely until Wydalcus slammed the book he'd taken back on the desk in front of Lily. " _Enough_ ," he growled and the class quieted. "Miss Evans, Mr. Black, Mr. Potter—leave. I'll let your Head of House know of your insubordination."

" _Insubordination_?" Lily whispered, standing. She packed her things up, taking care to grab her book, and followed James and Sirius to the door. Sirius took care to slam it behind him. "I can't believe I just got kicked out of class," Lily said as they traipsed down the corridor. "I can't believe I just got kicked out of class for being a decent human being!"

Sirius grinned at her. "It's alright, Ginger, we can't even _count_ how many times we've been thrown out of class," he laughed. Lily tried to frown at him but a grin snuck onto her lips instead. "Plus," added Sirius, "you only did what was right."

They were silent for a while. And then Lily managed, "Thanks, by the way. I didn't realize you'd care about this kind of thing…"

"Oh, I've got an uncle," said Sirius, "and...well, yeah, I've just got an uncle."

Lily laughed. "Alright," she said slowly. Finally, turning to James, she elbowed him softly. "And thank you, too...for earlier, as well. I didn't think you'd listen but…"

"Well, I'm not a dog that you can command," replied James. Sirius looked hurt for reasons unbeknownst to Lily but she listened as James went on, "But, I guess it was better that I didn't get involved. Especially with Snape there."

Sirius looked between them, bored. "Am I interrupting something or…?"

"No," they both answered with a glare.

"I am kind of disappointed, though," said Lily, frowning. "I guess I just expected more of our friends to say something. To stand up for what I was. You know?"

James sighed as they turned the corner, reaching the stairs. "I've told you before, Red, people aren't as great as you think they are. They don't...get it."

She hated to admit that he was right. She hated to let him get away with calling her by a nickname. Still, she said nothing at all. They traveled the rest of the way to Gryffindor tower. Lily scolded them for making fun of Slughorn and then, the strangest thing of all happened. Lily realized, all too suddenly, and with startling intensity, that she didn't mind their company at all. In fact, she didn't feel annoyed in the least. Perhaps it was just that moment, she reminded herself. But, still, it struck her how much things had changed. For the good and for the bad.

Lily wondered if things would keep changing.

And if she would like when they did.

. . .

At dinner, the sixth year Gryffindors noticed immediately the entrance of Alice and Frank, together. Alice flounced up to the table, slinging an arm around James' shoulder. "How's my James? Are you eating well? You need to eat vegetables, too, you know! How do you expect to get any better looking if all you're eating is meat and grease!"

"I'm already astoundingly good-looking, I don't think I can possibly get better,"

The entire table let out a collective snort. "But, are you feeling better, James?" asked Frank, who was standing awkwardly behind Alice (and judging her severely, as she had taken a seat and begun to help herself to a serving of roast chicken). James nodded and offered his gratitude to Frank. "Do you know whenabouts Pomfrey will take you off your grounding?"

James tore into a piece of bread, scowling, and through a full mouth grumbled, "Probably never. The old lady's always on my back about being fully healed and not pushing myself. What rubbish. I'm fine! Look at me; I'm a healthy boy."

"Yes, you will be if you eat your damned vegetables," scolded Alice, piling greens onto his plate. He frowned at her, pushing the unwelcome addition to his plate around with his fork. "How's everyone else, though? Mary, you look smashing, as ever."

This would have launched a conversation about Mary's extensive skin routine, but Peter smartly cut her off with a question: "Are you and Frank, like, hanging out now then?"

Both of the Aurors grew uncomfortable at this, with Alice omitting a loud _psh_ sound. "I don't see why anyone would want to get along with Alice," said Dorcas, face half-covered by her book. When she glanced up, however, her eyes betrayed her. She was amused. Alice glared at Dorcas, shoveling potatoes into her mouth to keep from saying anything too coarse.

"Frank is Alice's mentor," said Lily, looking at them from over her goblet of juice, "it's only natural that they'd be around together." Both of the Aurors threw her a grateful glance. Lily wasn't sure that anything was going on but with how private Frank was and how awkward Alice could be, Lily wasn't sure that they wanted their relationship—friendly or otherwise—publicized. She glanced at James and thought that she understood this feeling very well.

Frank turned towards the Head Table to find Dumbledore waving him over. Frank approached, leaving Alice alone with the Gryffindor sixth years. "He _has_ been a little nicer," Alice said once he'd fully gone. "I mean, he's still Frank—" She rolled her eyes, "—but he's an improved Frank. He doesn't get annoyed with me as often. And he talks more. About interesting things, too. Did you know his mentor was Alastor Moody? How cool!"

Alice took a long sip of pumpkin juice, closing her eyes. When she opened them, they had a conspiratorial glint in them. She ushered the group to come closer. They did and she giggled, glancing up towards the Head Table to make sure Frank wasn't around.

"He does the funniest things, though," she said, grinning. "Like he always wears mismatched socks. And he doesn't like butterbeer but he likes that Muggle drink, cream soda. He also hates the holidays. Who hates the holidays?"

Frank didn't return to the table until dinner had come to a close. As the students filed out of the Great Hall, he fell into step with Lily, who beamed up at him. She'd never admitted it but perhaps a younger her had had the tiniest crush on Frank. She nearly giggled at the thought. Nowadays, she couldn't imagine seeing Frank as anything but a goofy older brother. "I heard from Alice that you kids were poking around the Emma Bridgewater-Priscilla Goodwin case."

Lily froze.

"I just wanted to let you know that the Auror Department is considering relaunching the investigation because I found a document missing out of Priscilla Goodwin's file," he went on. "If you know _anything_ , it's imperative that you let me know."

Her fingers trembled within the pockets of her robes. They wouldn't think that Lily was involved, would they? Would Pippa retaliate? Lily bit her lip and turned to Frank. She could tell him that there _were_ things she knew. She didn't have to mention that the person who had stolen that file was just ten meters ahead of them. "I thought it was weird," she said, "but I don't really know anything about what happened."

Frank nodded slowly, watching her.

Strange things were at work in Hogwarts. And only time would bring them to light.

. . .

"You are the vilest, most detestable, awful prat that I have ever had the displeasure of coming across, Sirius Black," screamed a nameless fifth year, tone drenched in unsullied disgust. A pang of sympathy coursed through Lily, though she was not sure if it was towards the fifth year—who had the misfortune of encountering Sirius—or the accosted boy himself—who looked severely downcast. "And I truly would rather lock lips with a Blast-Ended Skrewt than _you_!"

A look of sorrow flickered in the boy's grey eyes but vanished just as quickly as it came. "Alright, then," he said evenly, "my deepest apologies for bothering you." The crowd watched silently as the Marauder retreated from the circle that had formed, disappearing down a corridor.

Remus, having witnessed the flagrant accusations towards his friend, trotted off in the direction of Sirius. Several girls confronted the ruffled Hufflepuff, who stood with a weak air of indignation as the surrounding crowd simultaneously dispersed and drew closer. Lily found the situation stingingly familiar, though she couldn't quite place _why_ exactly. "Dirty slag," shrieked a girl, waving her arms frantically at the stagnant Hufflepuff. She did not seem, in any way, apt to reply. Instead, she stood bravely as insults were cast her way and as the earlier girl growled, "You're a ruddy person and a damned fool for acting so… so _awfully_ to him!"

"I don't believe it's any of your business," cut in the level voice of James. The girl, a Ravenclaw, stared wordlessly at the boy before her. Still, he went on, "What happened just now is strictly between her"—He gestured to the Hufflepuff—"and Sirius. It is rather unfortunate that it had to happen so publicly, but still, that does not make it a matter that _you_ should concern yourself with."

Embarrassed, the Ravenclaw (who Lily recalled to be a seventh year, in fact, named Yulia) strode quickly from the Hall. James, meanwhile, eyed the Hufflepuff girl with careful consideration. "Th-Thank you," stuttered she.

"You're blocking the staircase,"

A befuddled pause. "What?"

Sighing, the Marauder gestured loosely to the marble steps that ascended up behind her before repeating, "You're blocking the staircase and you've made a fool of my mate, so if you would, please move before I go off on _you_ , as well." The girl flushed and moved aside. No further words were exchanged as James deftly climbed the staircase and disappeared further into the castle. The crowd had mostly dispersed, though the Hall remained abuzz with new gossip.

Lily, having looked away in an attempt to navigate herself closer to the Great Hall, had lost sight of the Hufflepuff entirely. Within the Great Hall, it seemed that everybody in the student body knew at once of what had occurred. Naturally, the Gryffindor sixth years were no exception. "I cannot believe it," said Mary, a broad smile spread across her lips, "I mean, I knew it would happen eventually, but this-this is just _rich_."

Marlene swatted at her friend, shushing her. "Would you be quiet?"

"Why?" laughed Mary. "Who would have thought that some Hufflepuff fifth year would tell the oh-so-great Sirius Black off. Things have really gone wonky, haven't they? I mean aside from all of the other shit going on, now you have a _younger_ girl denying Sirius' request for her to be his flavor of the week. It's the times, I'm telling you!" Lily slid into the empty spot beside Marlene, then, watching bemusedly as the girl across from her rambled on.

"Who is she, then?" cut in the redhead.

The brunette giggled. "Carmen Plum, Hufflepuff Seeker," she said. She glanced around as if expecting the girl to reveal herself. The Hufflepuff table was, however, inconspicuous as ever. Save for one Hufflepuff who was fuming as she accosted a group of students who must have been Carmen's friends.

"Wasn't that the girl that caused the whole Quidditch debacle?" Lily asked, helping herself to several spoons of bread pudding. The girls nodded and spent the entire meal theorizing about what exactly had occurred between Sirius and Carmen. Lily, all too used to public battles, did not pay the event much more attention at all. There were other things on her mind, anyway.

It had been almost a week since Lily had opened James' note and things had only grown increasingly strange at Hogwarts. Lily had been unable to escape the scrutiny of her classmates, regardless of year, as it seemed that everyone had found out about her outburst in Defense. McGonagall had been reluctant to give any of the three accused students punishment ("Honestly, Wylard, you can't expect them to just agree with you!"). But, the professor had been adamant, so McGonagall had given them a short two-hour detention supervised by Professor Flitwick.

Lily had almost enjoyed her detention as Flitwick seemed keen on giving her the least work and complimented her profusely for the little that she did do. James and Sirius, however, had a harder time as the Charms professor did not like them nearly as much, and unaware of the reason for their detention, assumed the worst. They were both stained with soot for days afterward.

Still, Lily couldn't help but feel that Wydalcus' actions, and the response of her classmates, spoke volumes about how the wizarding community perceived those who did not fall within their strict guidelines. It was this obvious presence of prejudice and bullying and unfairness that kept Lily from going to McGonagall with her new knowledge. McGonagall had seemed to be decent, in theory, but how could Lily be sure that whoever she passed the information off to would be?

She let out a great sigh, eliciting the attention of her friends. "Is something wrong, dear?" asked Mary, pushing a strand of hair out of Lily's face. "You look troubled."

"I'm fine, I suppose," she said, "I guess part of me is dreading the upcoming holidays." And she wasn't lying, technically. Lily knew what was waiting for her at home. It was going to be their second Christmas without her father. Things were supposed to get easier the second time around, she reminded herself. But, still, the pit in her stomach grew. What if her mother started crying again? Marlene and Mary nodded knowingly.

Dorcas, who had been rather quiet, set down her magazine. "I don't know why you put up with that sister of yours, Lily," she said, picking at a roll on her plate, "she's so awful to you and you just put up with it. Haven't you tried, I don't know, letting her have it?"

"You don't mean threatening her with magic, right?"

The kinky-haired witch winked. "I don't _not_ mean it."

"And everyone says that _we're_ the mean ones," said Marlene, gesturing between herself and Mary. Dorcas shrugged. "I'm just saying, you purebloods... _brutal_."

The girls laughed despite the unquestionable, gory truth to the jest. The cruelty of wizards, purebloods aside, had grown more apparent over the past week, as well. Lily glanced down at the copy of _The Daily Rebel_ spread across the table between Marlene and Mary. _Missing wizard found dead_ , it read. Lily shuddered. Murder used to be fairly rare. Now, it seemed there was a new name in the obituary section every week. Maybe the violence was getting worse; maybe _The Daily Prophet_ had just been covering that much up. Either way, Lily couldn't help but feel that the danger outside of Hogwarts was bound to penetrate the castle someday. Then, swallowing, she realized that, clearly, it already had.

It was Sunday, the twelfth of December. There were only ten days left until they took the Hogwarts Express home for the winter holidays. The anticipation seemed to hang in the air every day, growing with each passing hour. Hagrid, the Groundskeeper, had brought up a large pine tree the day before. They watched Flitwick add the final touches to the decorations that morning. Now, as the afternoon sun rose high above the snowy turrets of the castle, Lily and her friends made their way back to the common room to enjoy the rest of their weekend. "Do you think Sirius is alright?" she found herself asking Marlene, who was Sirius' closest friend outside of the Marauders.

She shrugged. "I imagine so," she said but the frown on her lips said otherwise. "The thing is...people tend to think he's invincible. But, come on. He's human, isn't he? Being rejected...that hurts. And in front of everyone…"

"Should we say something…?"

Marlene shook her head vigorously. "No, no, no," The common room was fast approaching but she forced Lily to pause. "Don't pity him. He hates that."

Having shared a house with him for nearly six years, Lily thought she knew a little bit about Sirius Black. But, it occurred to her that there were things you could never know about a person unless they let you know. Sirius and Marlene got along well, even if it wasn't always blatantly apparent. He'd let Marlene in; he hadn't yet done that for Lily. Did she want to be let in? Could she handle the burden of another person's struggles? She didn't know.

Mary held open the portrait for them once they'd caught up, grumbling about being left out of a conversation. Inside the common room, Dorcas had already saved a table for the four of them. Lily beamed. Perhaps she didn't know Sirius. Maybe she didn't know a lot of people at all. But, looking around at her three friends, they were enough.

For Lily, they were enough.

. . .

"Look, Padfoot, it's not the end of the world," said Remus, who was tidying up his section of the room. Or attempting to, at the very least. Sirius gave him a very sour look. "I just think that you took some bad advice and rushed into things, assuming it'd be like every other time."

James scowled. "He took _my_ advice."

"My point exactly," Remus said without skipping a beat. James looked accosted. He hadn't tried to cheer up Sirius at all since returning to the dorm. And Remus knew as well as James that it was _James'_ encouragement that Sirius was waiting for. But, that was the thing about James, he never gave into anything too easily. He wanted Sirius to struggle and to learn from that struggle. Perhaps it was a mean thing to do to a friend.

"It's not even like I just wanted to _shag_ her," complained Sirius, who was lounging on Peter's bed, staring up at the ceiling. Peter was looking, nearly cross-eyed, at his Bishop (he and James had started up a game of wizard's chess). Remus gave Sirius a skeptical look. Finally, Sirius admitted, "Okay, so I _did_ want to shag, but I'm a boy with needs! And her friends said that she was totally into me, so I did what a guy does."

"Which was?" prodded Peter, still staring intently at his pieces.

Sirius paused, ruffling his hair with a groan. "I mean, maybe... _maybe_ it was a little forward. But, it's my best line! Perpetua loves it. I said, 'You. Me. Broom Closet. 8 p.m.'" Remus groaned; James doubled over with laughter (and Peter snatched one of James' pieces off the board while he wasn't looking). Sirius turned to look at Remus. "Bad idea?"

" _Terrible_ idea. I mean, why would you assume that Carmen is anything like Perpetua?" said Remus through a laugh. Then, quickly, "Don't you dare say because they're both from Hufflepuff or I swear…"

"Are you mad at me, Moony?"

The boy in question laughed: "Yes!" He shook his head at Sirius. "I'm mad because you're hopeless! Utterly, entirely, completely hopeless!" It was Sirius' turn to groan. He rolled over, burying his head in his bed sheets. "Look, here's a start. Apologize. Profusely. And, I don't know, maybe find out something about her instead of assuming that she's just like any other girl you've ever shagged."

"Find out something about her?" asked Sirius, voice muffled by his covers. " _How_?"

This time, James, Peter, and Remus chorused: "Talk to her!"

. . .

As far as Lily was concerned, she was sick of Sirius trying to talk to Carmen.

Their interactions never turned out well. Maybe it was because Sirius was too coarse; maybe it was because Carmen refused to listen to him. Either way, it was getting out of control. Lily was sick of someone standing up and screaming during every meal time. Earlier, they had rowed in the middle of dinner over something as superficial as which utensil to eat with. Who did that? They were acting like children, constantly bickering and fighting. How embarrassing.

Dorcas thought Lily was a hypocrite. Lily didn't get where she was coming from.

"Less than a week left," Marlene sighed, collapsing into her bed. Lily looked up from her Transfiguration homework with a smile. She was glad to be rid of classes for a while, too. And the students at Hogwarts. The debacle between Sirius and Carmen had become the hottest gossip for the past week, which thankfully left Lily out of the firing zone for her "deviant" views on sexuality. Of course, James and Sirius had avoided this backlash entirely, which Marlene had had a slew of choice words about. Lily only brought up briefly that neither Marlene herself nor Dorcas or Mary had come to her defense. They couldn't make up a coherent excuse; Lily left it alone.

Meanwhile, she'd seen Frank and Alice around a lot more. They started interviewing students. Pippa and her friends had already been interviewed a number of times, according to the rumors floating about. This was all following a decision by the Auror department to dedicate a few of their resources into reconsidering the Priscilla Goodwin case. The missing file was still missing, only Lily and the Marauders knew its whereabouts. When Lily had confronted James about it a few days prior, he had told her not to worry. He took care of it.

But, then, on Wednesday, James had come to breakfast with a letter crumpled into his fist and a poor mood. He hadn't been entirely himself since. Lily knew it wasn't her business to ask. Still, she remained curious.

"So, Lily," Mary began, drawing Lily from her reverie. "What's up with you and Ashton?"

The redhead laughed. "Nothing's _up_ ," she answered, tapping her quill against her bottom lip. "We talk. Sometimes we hang out in the library. He walks me to class _occasionally_. I don't know. It's not serious. It's not...it's not anything, okay? It's just me...and him...getting along quite nicely."

Mary smiled knowingly. "But you _want_ it to be something…"

"What? No…" said Lily but even _she_ didn't believe herself. Had things changed between her and Ashton since he had confessed? She thought they hadn't but that seemed increasingly untrue. He made her feel safe because that's what _he_ was: safe. Ashton didn't try to be the hero and that was exactly what Lily needed. Stability. Lily knew that she was lucky that Ashton and Asher didn't keep in touch. After all, what would have happened if Ashton had written to his brother about her? "I still haven't figured out if it's a good idea to date him."

Marlene flipped around on her bed to look at Lily. "Is it because of his brother? Or is it because of someone else…" Marlene grinned suggestively. Lily shuddered. She was sick of the suggestion that her feelings for James Potter were anything past civil. They were acquaintances. On a good day, she may have even chanced to call him a _close_ acquaintance. There was nothing going on between her and James. This she was positive of.

Asher was a different issue entirely. She had never properly dated Asher. They had had _relations_ that were romantic but they had never gone out on a date. He had never brought her flowers. It hadn't been serious; it was just physical. Lily wasn't the prude people made her out to be, in fact, she thought herself quite a modern girl. Still, the impact he had had on her was definite. Asher hadn't want Lily, but God, she'd wanted him.

Ashton was different. Lily didn't want Ashton. She didn't want to lie in a bed with him, not then, anyway. But, she _needed_ him. Her world was filled with treacherous waters and rough waves that wanted nothing more than to drag her under. Ashton was a sturdy structure within those waters. She could cling to him and he would protect her. And he would never ask her for more than she'd give. She liked him a lot, the more she thought about it. Was it fair to want something that you were destined to drag down, something that you'd take and take and take from with no clear sign of when you'd be able to give anything back? "It's because I'm not ready," Lily replied finally. Her roommates gave her a sorry look and dropped the subject.

Lily didn't get much done that night. She managed to finish her Transfiguration homework but everything else was at most half-done. Even so, Lily crept down the stairs as midnight approached, writing materials in hand. She still wrote a letter every day. She still hadn't sent a single one out. She thought that maybe she'd figure it out after the winter holidays.

The common room was blissfully empty, the only sound coming from the crackling fire. Lily took a seat in the armchair by the fire. Her bare toes felt unbelievably warm. She cracked a grin. It was harder to write if she sat on one of the couches or armchairs but it was far more comfortable. It was a choice Lily had had to make almost every night since she'd begun writing the letters. Not that she minded, really.

She hadn't even finished dating the letter when she heard footsteps on the stairs. It wouldn't have been the first time someone came down while she was writing. Plenty of students crept down to the common room in the middle of the night, hoping to sneak out to meet their girlfriend from Hufflepuff or their boyfriend from Ravenclaw. Lily didn't bother to turn around as she said, quite clearly, "Curfew has passed. If you even think about stepping out of this common room, I'll write you up for a detention faster than you can say 'Sorry.'"

"Rough, Evans," came a familiar voice instead.

Lily turned around to find James: lopsided grin, glasses, and all. "Oh," she said and settled back into the chair. He sidled over, falling back into a seat on a nearby couch. "What are you doing up?" she asked, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye as she finished writing the date on her parchment.

"Well," he began, "I had a gut feeling that a certain redhead would be losing sleep down here. And, as it happened, I wanted to talk to her. So, here I am."

"Compelling," Lily replied, smirking. "So, what is it?"

James adjusted his glasses. "I never noticed that Emma or Priscilla was being bullied," he said, staring into the fire. "To my knowledge, no one knew. I asked around about them and everyone I talked to thought they were just two quiet girls. That's all they knew."

"It's not like everyone bullies people like y—" Lily stopped herself. "You can never really know what's happening behind closed doors." She bit her lip and went on, "I get what you're saying though. It's so easy to overlook. They were both such pretty girls. Who would think that girls like them had anything bad going on? And even _we_ don't know the extent of what was going on. I mean, do we even know if they _were_ being bullied? Anyway, I do think the Aurors ought to have looked into it. Bullying is a big issue. They can't just assume that those girls did what they did of their own accord."

"Emma, at least," James reminded her, "we still don't know what happened to Priscilla."

Lily gave James a pitying look, which he ignored. She feared that if Priscilla's body ever turned up, James would be devastated. At the beginning of the year, she wouldn't have understood how someone could become so attached to someone they didn't really know. But, then, Emma appeared. Lily sighed. "I don't know, James, maybe we should…"

"Wait," said James suddenly. "You're right. What if Emma _was_ bullied to death? Priscilla was gone. She couldn't mourn her properly for what she was to her because of how people perceive that. She was being bullied by the people she thought were her friends. And so, it all became too much. She took her life to escape the pain."

Neither of them spoke as they let this sink in. They'd discussed it before but it somehow seemed more plausible. And, for Lily, it only hurt more. She had seen how those girls acted toward Emma. She should have told someone, she thought bitterly. Again, she regretted all of the things she didn't figure out in time. But, then, she remembered: "Potter, what about the note? Why did she send me that note?"

It was like a lightbulb buzzing to life; suddenly, they both sat up, staring at each other.

"Evans, do you think…" James swallowed thickly. "Do you think someone pushed her?"

Hearing it out loud, it felt right. She had considered it before but had never had the guts to really think it through. "I'm thinking that it's possible. I'm thinking that people have this awful, indescribable hatred and prejudice for everyone that's different from them. Look at what they're doing to Muggleborns! And if someone...if someone hated what Emma was enough...with the kind of hatred that people feel towards Muggleborns, then…"

"They could be pushed to murder," James finished.

Lily nodded, biting her nail. Then, "They could have found out that she was going out by herself. Right before curfew...no one else is around. And they thought that that would be the perfect opportunity. Priscilla was already gone. So, Emma...she was the only one left. All they had to do was give her a shove. There wouldn't be any magic to trace back to their wands. It's the perfect plan. And who suspects the friends? Who suspects fifteen-year-olds? The Aurors don't."

They sat there for several minutes, considering their theory. James shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I'm sure you've already figured this out, but…" he began, grimacing. "We can't tell anyone. If they find out that you were supposed to meet with her that night...you know what it'll look like. They'll look into us and they'll find out _everything_. It'll seem…"

"Suspicious," Lily sighed, "I know. And it's not like we have enough evidence to really be making these accusations." She looked down at her blank parchment. It was getting late. She had classes tomorrow and she should have finished the letter by then in order to get enough sleep. "What do we do?"

James rubbed his chin. He hadn't shaved in a day or two and his stubble was growing in. " _We'll_ do nothing. But, _I'll_ talk to one of them. Ask where they were that night. Try to suss things out. Not that they haven't figured their story out already, but…"

"How could fifteen-year-old girls do that?"

He shrugged. "People do awful things when they're young. They act so...stupid."

"You'd know all about that," Lily said suddenly, unable to stop herself. She looked down at her parchment again, surprised by herself. She could feel James' cold gaze on her face. "I'm sorry."

"No, Evans, if that's how you feel…"

Lily looked up. "How I feel...That's a weird way to word it. Potter, this isn't about my _feelings_. This is about how you acted since you were eleven. You were always so...so... _mean_ ," she hissed. He stood up, hurt, so Lily did as well. "Don't walk away from this, Potter, you know what you did. You _bullied_ people. You and Sirius did. Remus and Peter let it happen. You made my life _hell_. In case you've forgotten, I lost my best friend because of you." She knew this wasn't entirely true but things had already escalated too far. She wanted to hurt him because he'd hurt her. And the way he was looking at her now made her think that he was feeling the same way.

"You know what, Evans," he said quietly, "I am so _sick_ of you constantly holding that over my head. I did what I thought was right. I was stupid and immature, sure. But, I didn't do it to hurt you. I did it to help you because I lo—" This time, James stopped himself. "Whatever, I'm not doing this. I'm done with this tit-for-tat with you. Can't we just get _along_?"

"No, we can't. I don't _want_ to. I can handle you in doses. I can work with you for a while but then all of a sudden, you just...explode. And you're chaotic and you're doing _everything wrong_ and I can't do that. I can't just be okay with you doing whatever you please. There are rules, Potter. There are lines that we draw. I might overstep them and I may break the rules, occasionally. But I can't deal with you constantly thinking that you're above everything and everyone!" Lily nearly shouted. She was breathing heavily from the anger and the effort to keep her voice down. James stared her down, hazel eyes meeting her green ones. He took a step towards her, looked down, and turned away. For a while, he didn't move and Lily thought he might say something.

But, he left.

. . .

"Don't you think that you ought to just move on and start talking again?" said Mary, ever the bold one. The group looked between Lily and James, who were minding their own business and ignoring each other almost entirely. Lily looked up, locking eyes with James, and just as quickly she directed her attention back to her stew. "Oh, please."

Remus sighed. "You can't force them."

Sirius shrugged, "I could try." But, then, he saw Carmen Plum enter the Great Hall and take a seat with her friends. Clapping Peter on the shoulder, he stood from his seat. "Off to get myself an invite to Slughorn's Christmas party," he said, winking, before jogging off in the direction of Hufflepuff table. Perpetua sat happily on the edge of her seat as Sirius approached but quickly scowled when he passed by her entirely.

"He's going to muck it up," Dorcas singsonged.

Marlene laughed. "At least give him a _little_ credit," she said. Peeking over her shoulder, she watched Sirius squeeze into the seat across from Carmen, beaming. "Nah, you're right, he's probably going to muck it up."

"Who are you taking to Slughorn's Christmas Party, anyway?" Mary asked, taking a sip of pumpkin juice. "I'm going with Remus. As friends, of course," She looked around the table. "He practically begged me."

The mentioned boy nearly choked on his brussel sprouts. "You didn't even _ask_ me yet!" he said, pounding his chest. "I seriously don't even know what she's talking about."

"Oh, well, you're going with me,"

Marlene busted into laughter, tears forming in her eyes. Soon, the whole group had joined her. All except for Remus, who was disgruntled, flushed, and rolling his eyes. "I have exciting news," Marlene said once she'd calmed down. "Jonah Nix asked me yesterday. I wanted to tell _so bad_ but I thought I should save it for when we'd all be here."

"Fine!" someone screamed from the table over. "Fine, I'll go!"

They all turned to watch as Carmen Plum, colored vermillion, got up and stormed from the Great Hall. Perpetua got up not a second later and stormed out as well. Marlene frowned. "We were wrong, he did it."

Horrified, Lily said, "Yes, but I don't think she's too happy about it!"

"Details, details, Evans," said Sirius, sauntering over.

Peter blinked at Sirius as if he was a mythical creature, appearing after years of absence. "What did you say to her?"

"I could tell you, Wormtail," he sighed, "but then I'd have to kill you."

Sirius' "success," which Lily shuddered to call it, was the talk of the common room for the rest of the night. That, and to those invited, the Slughorn Christmas Party. It was Sunday, the nineteenth of December, and the night before Slughorn's renowned Christmas Party. Lily wished people realized that it was hardly all it was cracked up to be. She'd attended the year prior and been direly disappointed.

This year, however, Slughorn had either been looser with the invitations or people were more willing to sneak in. Lily supposed that the draw of the party was it's exclusivity. She herself had always gushed about the party to Severus, when he'd listened, and her desire to attend. Imagine her disappointment when she discovered it was one big opportunity for Slughorn to show-off. Or, as Dirk Cresswell, who was a year younger, had told her, it was an opportunity to network. Many of the Slugclub members did just that: schmoozing with Ministry officials, authors, and the like all night. Lily went for the food and the opportunity to dress up for the occasion. She _did_ enjoy dressing up, once in a while.

The common room began to thin out as the night dragged on. Lily brushed imaginary dust off of her paper and continued to write her essay, well into the night. She didn't notice the common room empty out until, at last, Dorcas rose from her seat and told Lily not to stay up too late. Lily promised her that she wouldn't and returned promptly to her work.

"Hey, Red,"

She looked up, wide-eyed, to find James Potter staring at her from a seat across the common room. "Don't call me that," she snapped and tried to focus on her assignment. She couldn't, and thus, she saw him get up from his seat and approach her table. And she most definitely saw him sit down in the seat across from her, put his hands out in front of him, and rest his head on top of his hands. "What are you doing?" she asked, not looking up so as to appear busy.

"Watching you pretend to work," he said and looked very pleased with himself.

Lily huffed loudly. "I am not _pretending_. I _was_ doing work. You just...you just…" She groaned and set down her quill before looking James squarely in the eye. "Fine, I'll bite. What is it, Potter?"

He smiled and Lily wouldn't admit it but she felt her resolve give a little. James had a _very_ convincing, positively boyish smile. She rolled her eyes and gestured for him to get on with it. "I wanted to apologize, Evans," he began, his smile dimming. "I was a prat. I mean the other day and before that, too. It's not like I _like_ what I did. I was just...Oh, I don't know. Stupid? Young? I know that's not an excuse. But, even...even what I did to Sniv—" He stopped himself, shaking his head, "— _Snape_. I know it was wrong. I went too far. And I hurt you. And I'm _sorry_."

It wasn't that Lily had to forgive him. She wanted to, actually, but she didn't have to. James had done things to her that were irreparable. And his actions, and the consequences of them, had left scars on her that wouldn't fade for a _very_ long time. Still, she let out a long sigh and rested her head in her hands, mimicking James. "I can't forgive you for what you did back then," she said slowly and watched his mood dim, "but I can accept and live with the fact that you're a different person now. I'd be blind to ignore all the effort you've put into trying to work out what happened to Priscilla Goodwin. And that's...very decent, no, very _good_ of you, Potter."

Then, James beamed. Like a child who'd been let off the hook, Lily thought and smiled back at him. "We can't keep going back and forth like this, Evans," James said, then. "You scratch and I run away. I bite and you run away. We're like cat and dog. It's not helping us."

"Well, I can't _help it_ ," Lily argued, "if you act like a prat, I'm going to be mad."

James looked as if he wanted to say something but didn't. He just smiled and laughed. Until, he stopped smiling suddenly and shifted awkwardly in his seat. "So," he began and Lily began to tap her knee anxiously. She had the slightest inclination of what might happen but didn't dare get ahead of herself. "Red, I mean Evans…" She let him continue. "About tomorrow. I heard that...you don't have a date...and I...well, out of the kindness of my heart, I suppose...I _could_ , possibly, take _you_. I mean, do you want to? Do you want to, er, go with me? To the...party. The Slugclub party. Oh, _you know the one._ "

Lily bit her lip, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. And she laughed lightly. But, it sounded strange to James. It wasn't Lily's laugh, it was strangled and forced. She looked sadly up at James. "I'm so sorry, Potter," she said and his face fell. He tried to keep the smile on his face but it was gone and he couldn't imagine where it might be. "It's just that Ashton asked me the other day. I didn't want to make a big deal out of it, so I didn't say anything. I really am sorry."

James had ducked his head and was rubbing at the back of his neck. Lily knew that he did this when he felt awkward. "It's fine," James finally said and looked back up, half-smiling. But, not in his eyes. The smile didn't seem to reach his eyes. "I mean, why would you want to go with me? We just...rowed. I was being dumb! Also, of course, Ashton. Great lad. Really, really...great."

"You're rambling," said Lily quietly.

The bespectacled boy met her gaze. "Am I?"

 _Of course, I am_.

. . .

Professor Horace Slughorn had first begun hosting his annual Christmas party three years after he began teaching at Hogwarts. He used this party to connect more directly with his brightest students, with whom he forged a tight bond that he could call upon (and cite to others) later in life. He'd already begun having monthly dinner parties with select pupils. They were, of course, the brightest of their year. There wasn't a student in the club that didn't go on to do fantastic, important things. This delighted Horace Slughorn to no end and had kept him dutifully in his position as Hogwarts' Potions Master.

On this particular year, 1976, Horace had invited only a select number of his current students, allowing them each to bring a guest, and had invited as many of his previous students as he thought as necessary (which, as he noticed upon looking at the guest list, was nearly all of them). He greeted each guest kindly and with gusto, for it was because of his generous hospitality that they continued to return, year after year. That and the fabulous music selection and tasteful hors d'oeuvres. Elegance was not a goal, to Horace Slughorn, it was a _necessity_.

"Oh, Mr. Flume," Slughorn chortled, "most delightful to see you again. You _must_ let me drop by and sample some of your newest fudges, sometime!"

It was in this flurry of greetings that Slughorn failed to notice Remus Lupin and Mary MacDonald sneak in. Remus felt very funny about it but Mary insisted. Even if Slughorn _had_ noticed, he likely would have let the duo through. After all, the appearance of Mary MacDonald seemed to liven up the party immediately (if not only for the men!) and that was hardly a thing to scoff at. Mary wore a simple, crimson slip dress and had done her brown hair up into a twist. She held onto Remus' elbow and guided him through the party, though much to his chagrin, Mary rarely bothered to excuse herself. Luckily, Remus did it for her.

Slughorn did, however, notice when Jonah Nix entered with _his_ date. Jonah was a half-blood whose father held a relatively important position in the Ministry. He looked the part as the son of such an astute figure, with finely tailored dress robes and a deep purple tie. The girl at his side Slughorn did not entirely recognize, though he recalled seeing her occasionally alongside his very favorite pupil, Lily Evans. Naturally, he had to introduce himself. "Hello," he said cheerily, looking between Jonah and the blonde girl. "And who is your lovely date?"

"This is Marlene McKinnon," Jonah said and smiled down at Marlene. Her blonde hair was elegantly curled and she had a long plait down the back of her hair. Her dress matched Jonah's tie, deep purple in color and made of a fine, chiffon-like material. Marlene was typically rather average; tonight, she looked stunning. She smiled kindly at the professor, who suddenly frowned. Horace Slughorn knew the McKinnons; he knew her elder sister, at the very least. Too dangerous, he thought.

"Yes, well, nice to meet you, Miss McKinnon," he said shortly and hobbled off. Marlene watched him go, enraged.

She bottled it, however, and smiled up at Jonah. "Let's go find the others."

Horace Slughorn was most pleased with the turn out of this year's party. Many of his previous pupils had shown up, and were continuing to show up, and nearly all of his current pupils were present. Even Severus Snape, who was most unsocial as far as Slughorn knew, had made an appearance. But, the professor's delight grew exponentially as a small group entered, at the middle of which was exactly the two students he had been most hoping to see. "Mr. Potter!"

James slipped on his most cordial smile. "Professor Slughorn," he replied and shook the man's meaty hand. "Thank you for inviting us, sir, we're excited to see what kind of tricks you have up your sleeve."

The professor winked good-naturedly. "No tricks, I'm afraid," he said, "but many surprises, yes." He turned to the girl beside James Potter, whose mauve dress looked magnificently expensive, as far as Horace could see. Her hair, too, looked beautiful: the kinky curls fell into a halo around her head and down to her shoulders. She, like Mary, was an almost show stopping sight to behold. The epitome of wealthy grandeur, Horace Slughorn thought. "Beautiful, as always, Miss Meadowes. Delightful to see you, too,"

"You, too, Professor," she said curtly.

Dorcas was uncomfortable. Uncomfortable because of her dress robes, which were beaded and itchy. Uncomfortable because of heels, which were hurting her feet. Uncomfortable because of the party, which she had only attended to save James' pride. And, most of all, uncomfortable because of the way people were looking at her. There were two ways that people usually looked at the Meadowes. First, impressed. They were an intimidating family, made up of new money, new politics, and a knack for networking. Naturally, heads turned. Then, the Potters showed up, and the Meadowes became dust. That's how it always was. _Why would the Potters mingle with the Meadowes?_

Worse still, Dorcas realized, was that they were absolutely oblivious to this. James guided her through the party, smiling and shaking hands, being the epitome of a _Potter_. And he didn't even realize that, to him, this was automatic. He was born and raised for success. There was no such thing as social climbing in the world of the Potters. They were the peak that others _tried_ to ascend. "They're _old money_ ," Alice once told her. "They might be nice but don't get confused. No one will ever look at you and I like they look at James."

Looking at him now, Dorcas knew Alice had been right.

"Hey, what's up with you?" asked Mary, looking up at Dorcas (they were about seven inches apart in height). "You can't look so sour when you're partying. That just doesn't fit the vibe."

Dorcas gestured around unhappily. "Does this look like partying, Mary? This is networking. This is kissing ass so that you get a nice little Ministry job when you're out of Hogwarts," explained Dorcas. Mary wrinkled her nose. Then, she sighed, and guided Dorcas away.

"You're panicking," Mary said once they were in a decently private area. "Because you have this 'I'm-not-good-enough' complex and you think that everyone hates you because you're with James. Newsflash, Dorcas, I wasn't even _invited_. You're fine. Go out there, force a smile like everyone else, and be charming."

"It's not that—" Dorcas tried but Mary had already pushed her back into the middle of the room. She panicked, looking for someone she knew, but everyone had disappeared. When she turned around, even _Mary_ had gone. Dorcas made a dash for the door, nearly making it out, but bumping into something _hard_ in the process. " _Ouch_."

In a daze, Dorcas didn't notice that she'd bumped into the very person who could make things a little less miserable. "Hi, Dorcas," said Lily, looking her up and down. "You look great. But, are you okay? You're looking a bit sick, actually."

"I'm great, thank God you're here! I was...Oh! Hullo, Ashton," rambled Dorcas, reaching out to pat Ashton kindly on the shoulder. "You look wonderful, both of you. I mean...really, wow."

Ashton's dress robes were new and fashionable; Dorcas thought she remembered them from when her mother had taken her shopping for dress robes. Of course, she hadn't spent much time in the men's section, so she couldn't entirely recall. They were dark in color, though not quite black. His tie was a sharp emerald color. Emerald, naturally, because it matched Lily's dress. Dorcas had seen Lily in green a million times but still, it fit her best. "The green isn't tacky, is it?"

"Gosh, no," replied Dorcas. "It's very Lily."

Ashton slid his hand around Lily's waist (who was taken aback by this) and guided her towards the Professor. Dorcas trailed after them, too scared to go look for anyone else. "Miss Evans," greeted Slughorn, " _most_ lovely to see you. And with Mr. Kipling, even better!"

The idle chat dragged on. Lily reached down to squeeze Dorcas' hand, which was shaking anxiously. Lily remembered well Dorcas' absolute hatred of parties like this. She wondered, absently, why she'd come at all. Until, of course, a certain boy appeared behind her. "Dorcas, I've been looking for you!" exclaimed James, laughing. He greeted the professor again before turning to Lily.

"Hi, Evans," he said quickly before turning to Ashton, "and Kipling. Looking sharp."

"Thanks," Ashton said unsurely, looking between Lily and James. The redhead was giving James a critical once over, as if inspecting him for lethal weapons. A moment later, she turned back to Ashton and smiled.

"I'm going to go get something to drink and try to find Marlene and Mary," she said, "you stay here, I'll be _right_ back."

Lily was not going to be right back. She knew this as soon as she walked away from the group. Sure, she felt guilty for leaving Dorcas. But, still, she was with James. James didn't care for anyone like he did for Dorcas. The refreshments room was in the same place as the year prior: at the very back of the multi-room venue that Professor Slughorn used for his Christmas party. There was a dessert table and an hors d'oeuvres table as well as an entire bar for refreshments. The bar was self-serve and enchanted to only serve alcohol to those of age. Lily gladly took a spot in front of the refreshments, grabbing herself a cold beverage in the meantime.

It wasn't that Lily disliked parties. It was more so that Lily disliked the facades that everyone put on. Even when confronted with people they hate, partygoers would continue to smile and laugh and joke like everything was fine. Even Lily did it, unable to hold herself back. Parties brought out the worst in people, this Lily knew. They also dug up _every_ secret. She took a sip of her bubbly drink and recalled the earlier scene. Even James was different: too jovial and abiding. Lily shuddered.

"He's beautiful," whispered a blonde somewhere nearby. Lily looked up. Naturally, she was looking at Sirius Black. He was dressed in silky dress robes, charcoal in color, and his hair was looking rather tamed for once. On his arm was a girl in a lovely marigold dress, her long brown hair braided down her back. "Oh, don't tell me," continued the blonde, "he's really with that _slut_?"

Ruffled, Lily finally got a good look at the girl beside her. "Perpetua?"

The blonde looked her way. "Oh, Lily," she drawled, "nice to see you again." She didn't look the smallest bit pleased to see Lily. Her eyes flitted back to Sirius, who seemed to be making his way towards them. She smiled suddenly and embraced Lily. "You're truly a good friend, Lily."

Sirius rose an eyebrow. "You two are friends?"

Before Lily could answer, Perpetua threw her arms around her once more. "Lily is more than a friend," sighed the blonde dramatically, "she has helped my friends and I through some awfully difficult times in the last few months." The girl on Sirius' arm fidgeted, her gaze fixed elsewhere. Perpetua narrowed her eyes and greeted, "Hello, Carmen, long time no see."

"Perpetua," acknowledged Carmen, extending a hand out and offering a jovial smile. Perpetua shook it stiffly. "Ah, I think I'll go see some of my friends. Pardon me." With that, she bowed her head slightly and shuffled off towards a grouping of Hufflepuffs. Sirius shoved his hands into his pockets and looked around the room, presumably hoping to find one of his mates.

A slender hand found Sirius' upper arm. "I think it's really nice what you're doing for Carmen," whispered Perpetua slyly. Lily recoiled slightly, feeling awkward in their presence. "See, not many guys are interested in Carmen, given her… _reputation_."

He waited for her to go on, leaning in.

"She sleeps around, that one," Perpetua sighed, "she stole my boyfriend once. But, I forgave her."

Sirius and Lily once more looked towards Carmen. She was laughing amongst her friends, brown eyes alight with genuine joy. Her eyes met Perpetua's for a moment and she looked down, bit her lip, and turned away. When Perpetua started to speak again, Sirius waved her off and walked away. "What was that?" spat Lily once he'd gone. "You and I, we're not friends. You know that. And I...I don't even know your friends! What game are you trying to play, Perpetua?"

The blonde gave her nothing more than a wink before swooping off. Lily glanced around, feeling awkward, and settled for standing next to the dessert table. As she broke off a piece of an eclair, several other people glided into the refreshments room, one of which was Marlene McKinnon. She smiled up at her date, Jonah Nix, before pardoning herself and nearly skipping over to Lily. "Isn't he just _delicious_?" sighed Marlene, eyes trailing after him.

"It's a little weird to call another human 'delicious,'" replied Lily honestly. Marlene rolled her eyes and regarded her friend, looking her up and down. "I know, I know, I wear too much green," said Lily.

Marlene shook her head matter-of-factly. "Actually, I was thinking how good you look in this dress," she said, smiling, "Meanwhile, _I_ feel like a tart. I borrowed this from Eletta Harding and we _all_ know that she's kind of a slag…"

"That's not nice," scolded Lily, stifling a grin. Then, turning her attention back to the girl in yellow, Lily asked, "What do you know about Carmen Plum?" Marlene looked over at the fifth year Hufflepuff and sighed.

"What _don't_ I know?" she began. "Carmen has a reputation for being a huge slag. Of course, the only ones who believe _her_ side of the story are her friends, Mary, and myself."

Lily tapped a heeled foot against the marble floor. "What's her side of the story, then?"

Marlene looked around, eyes narrowing, and finally pointed at the peppy blonde head of Perpetua Ryan. "Well, the truth is, _she_ slept with Carmen's boyfriend. When Carmen found out, Perpetua realized that everyone would hate her, so she concocted this rumor that it was Carmen who had stolen _her_ boyfriend. Who would dare to not believe Perpetua Ryan?"

"That's awful!" Lily exclaimed, scowling. Her friends had always had a lot to say about Perpetua. Mary and Marlene had been the first to hate her. When she'd developed an on-and-off relationship with Sirius, that hatred had only grown. Having told Marlene that she'd see her later, Lily made for Carmen, feeling bad about what had happened earlier. She did not, however, reach her.

In her path was a tall individual, with cropped black hair, and to Lily's horror, grey eyes. Regulus Black. "My bad," he said, giving her a once over, "I stepped in your way."

Taken aback, Lily shook her head. "No, uh, I should have been paying attention," she said quickly. The dark-haired boy shrugged and strolled away, as if nothing had happened at all. As if he hadn't been the one brawling in the middle of the corridor months prior. As if he wasn't meant to hate people like her. Lily stared after him, and unfortunately, lost Carmen during the mishap.

She turned to reclaim her place at the refreshment area. Instead, she found a hand on her back, guiding her away. "You know," someone said into her ear, "your boyfriend's looking for you."

Lily scowled. "I hope that's where you're taking me," she spat back at James. He laughed. "And he's not my _boyfriend_. God, don't pine, Potter. It doesn't look good on you."

"Then, what does?"

Dangerous. Lily knew at once that the situation was dangerous. The sticky kind of dangerous that you can't get yourself out of. She blinked at him. "Cut it out now, Potter," she hissed, "or I _will_ kick your arse." Again, James laughed. Then, both of his hands were on her waist and he was pushing her forward, into something.

"Found her," James said and smiled. Lily looked up to find Ashton looking curiously down at her. How embarrassing, she thought, to be fetched by _James Potter_. "I wasn't intending to find her, but I did, so I thought I'd send her back your way."

Ashton smiled, this time, and chuckled, "Thanks. I thought maybe she'd been sucked into the punch bowl." James laughed his unreal laugh, waved, and walked away. Lily could have sworn he threw another glance her way but she just as well may have been imagining things.

"I saw _Regulus Black_ while I was over there," Lily whispered to Ashton, brows creased. "And the weirdest thing is...he was _nice_." Ashton seemed to find this very funny, nearly doubling over in laughter. When he at last composed himself to regard Lily, though still wiping tears from his eyes, he simply shook his head at her.

"Have you ever thought, Lily, that just because your Gryffindor friends aren't a fan of someone, doesn't mean that they're a bad person?" he asked, albeit quietly. Lily narrowed her eyes at him. He wasn't _trying_ to be insulting but Lily took offense. What was he implying, anyway? That Lily put her blind trust into anyone? Or that her friends were not to be trusted? He put his hands up and laughed, "Just an idea. Maybe I'm wrong."

Lily frowned. "You are," she said, though she still hadn't entirely figured out what he'd meant. "Sorry, that came out rude. It's just that I _know_ Sirius and…"

"Do you?"

The redhead crossed her arms over her chest. "Yes, Ashton, I do. What's up with you?"

"I don't know, Lily," he sighed. Then, grabbing her arm, he tugged her into a secluded corner. "I just feel a little weird, is all. Like, when James came up to us...I felt like _I_ was the one intruding on something and I'm your date!"

"If you're suggesting that there's _anything_ going on with me and Potter…"

Ashton shook his head. "No, I'm not," he said. He looked upset, tired even. "I just want to have fun because this is a party and I'm here with _you_."

"So...let's have fun!"

He looked at Lily, who was beaming, and mustered a smile. "You're right," he said, "I'm being dramatic. Do you mind coming to talk to some of my friends? They'd like to meet you…"

The night dragged on in a flurry of pleasantries, finger food, and music. Once, Lily had caught a glimpse of her friends, sharing a laugh together. But, just as soon, Ashton had whisked her off to talk to someone else. It was fun, she told herself. And she liked his company and his hand around her waist.

When she arrived back at the Gryffindor common room at the end of the night, everyone stared at her as she entered. "Where were you all night?" complained Mary, "I barely saw you once."

Tired, Lily replied, "I was with my date, Ashton."

Lily did not doubt her friends. After all, who else had been there for her in her darkest days? But, still, Lily couldn't shake what Ashton had said. _Was_ she too influenced by her house? Even what Marlene had told her earlier about Carmen, could she so blindly trust that Marlene and Mary knew the truth? It was late and she rubbed circles into her temples, eyes glued to the canopy above her.

 _Everything's fine_ , Lily told herself, _there's nothing to worry about_.

* * *

 _A/N;_ I'm so sorry that this was uploaded late! I fell asleep (rip) and forgot to upload this chapter. But, here it is! I guess that means that you'll technically get two updates today? Anyway, this chapter is...super long. I know that _technically_ I could have split it up into two chapters. But, to be frank, I didn't have much to say about the Christmas Party, anyway, and moving it around would mess up my outline. But, enough of that boring stuff!

 _Review Comments:_ _pewpewpewpppp_ : Thank you so much for your review! I'm glad you're enjoying it thus far, and yes, as far as I can tell, I _will_ be continuing. Have a lovely day! : )

Hey, did you know that I'll love you forever if you favorite, follow, and review? [SIGNED, SAM]

 _Disclaimer:_ They don't call me Sam for nothing. AKA I don't own Harry Potter.


	12. Chapter 11

_It was the end, at last._

* * *

In the days, months, and years that would follow that day, there would be one thing that all of the students would recall. Above the impending winter holiday and the consistently rising death toll, above even the qualms of everyday teenagedom, the students of Hogwarts would remember that Pippa Parsimoni was absolutely _silent_ on the train ride to King's Cross Station.

It was known across the castle what had occurred in the wee hours of the previous night, many hours before the students boarded the Hogwarts Express. Even though most students did not understand the full implications of the rumors, those that did were silent, as well. They sat, heavy-headed, in their cabins, as unmoving and silent as Pippa Parsimoni herself.

 _Murder_ , whispered the younger children, running along the corridors of the train. The elder students shuddered and withdrew into their cabins, the doors slamming shut behind them. _Emma Bridgewater and Priscilla Goodwin were murdered_ , continued the youngins in hushed voices.

Snow fell lightly across the grounds when Lily Evans had found out, hours prior to boarding the train. "What?" she heard herself say. Everything felt so apart from reality. She swam in the realization that, once again, everything would change. Things were always changing. And she wondered if, now, they were changing _too_ much. "I'm sorry, Ashton, I think I misunderstood you."

The boy in front of her frowned, scratching the back of his head. He looked on-edge, anxious. When he thought Lily wasn't looking, he'd glance nervously over his shoulder. "I know it's a lot to process but I thought you should know. You were always asking about Emma, so…"

"But, what did you _say_?" Lily demanded, grabbing Ashton's shoulders.

He swallowed thickly. "Apparently," he began, gaze shifting between Lily and somewhere beyond her shoulder, "Pippa went to the Headmaster last night. And...she said that...Adora Shanks and Jean Pirrip...the other two fifth year Ravenclaws…" Again, Ashton looked away. Lily grew impatient, desperate to confirm her own suspicions. "They murdered Emma and Priscilla."

Lily was silent. Her hands dropped from Ashton's shoulders. He grabbed her hands quickly and gave them a squeeze. Lily didn't look at him. _So, we were right_ , Lily thought, feeling odd. "Ashton, I…" She grimaced, "...I have to go. Thank you for letting me know. I'll catch up to you on the train, okay?" He nodded numbly after her as she sprinted off across the Entrance Hall and up the stairs.

It was far too early to have broken into such a severe sprint. But, there was someone that Lily needed to see. Something that couldn't wait to be said. Even in the cold castle, sweat ran down her neck and forehead. It felt so familiar to that night, weeks prior. As Lily ran up the fifth floor staircase, she slowed to a stop. A sudden desire to lean over the railing came over her. She took a step forward, winced, and trained her gaze on the railing. "Evans?"

"Potter," Lily gasped and looked up the stairs to find James, alongside the rest of the Marauders, staring down at her.

"What are you doing?" he asked, hands stuck deep into the pockets of his trousers as he hopped down the steps with the Marauders in tow. He stopped next to Lily, eyeing her curiously, before turning to his friends. "Go on without me."

They spared a glance towards Lily and James before trotting away. "Potter, have you heard?" asked Lily, back pressed against the railing. James eyed her nervously and shook his head. "Emma...and Priscilla…" Lily looked as if she was going to be sick. Still, she went on, "They were murdered. Just as we thought. By the Ravenclaw girls…"

James frowned, one hand snaking up to his hair and the other diving into his pocket. "Shit," he cursed, sitting heavily onto the step above Lily. "I really hoped it wouldn't end up being that." Lily's knuckles were white. Of course, she had hoped as well. She wanted the truth, she had just hoped that that wouldn't be it. "So, all three of them are going to be tried, then?"

The redhead bit her lip. "No," she answered quietly. A group of students gave them a sideways glance as they filed past. James was looking at her so she went on, "Pippa turned the other two, Adora and Jean, in. The two that you saw talking. It was just them, apparently."

His glasses had gone askew from messing with his hair, so James adjusted them and looked more properly at Lily. She looked anxious and certainly unsure. "You look troubled, Evans," he observed, resting his elbows on his knees. "Why, you don't feel right about it?"

"No," she whispered, "it's just...odd, is all."

James nodded. "You're wondering why it doesn't feel over, even though it is," he said wistfully, rubbing at his chin. "I suppose when you get so attached to something, it's hard to foresee a time when it'll ever be _over_. So, when it is...it just feels wrong."

"I guess," said Lily, turning to look over the railing. Her shoulders tensed and she quickly turned back around. Her eyes looked glazed over. She shook her head as if to physically shake herself out of a daze. "I'm not convinced that it's over, Potter," Lily looked at him with piercing green eyes, "maybe things have come to a point this time. But, will it ever be over, with the world like this?"

James never did answer her. Hours had passed since their meeting on the fifth-floor stairs, and now on the Hogwarts Express, James sat numbly in his cabin. It was over, he told himself, but just as Lily had, he felt unsure. It felt too sudden and far too easy.

Of course, he hadn't mentioned to the troubled redhead what had happened the day prior. It was null by that point, anyway. Pippa had turned her friends in. The mystery was solved. But, what had been the emotion he'd seen in her at the mention of Emma and Priscilla when James had talked to her the day prior? James tousled his hair, frustrated.

He'd gone to the Ravenclaw girls, just as he'd promised Lily, and tried to be as inconspicuous as possible when asking them about the night of Emma's death. Jean and Adora had left early, excusing themselves to do homework. Pippa had remained, rubbing her arms to warm herself.

"I'm sorry, James," she had said. Something flashed through her eyes. "None of us really like talking about Emma or Priscilla. I'm sure you can see how it could be a...sore point."

Not pushing his luck, James had departed, wishing the blonde a nice holiday and peace in the absence of her friends. Again, something flashed through her eyes. James hadn't dwelled on it, however, until Lily had come to him this morning. She knew something, even then, that James was sure of. And with the accused girls gone, why hadn't she said something?

"Something on your mind, mate?" asked Sirius, prodding James with his elbow. He shook his head, mustering a smile. "It's a little odd, isn't it? A murder…"

"People have been murdered before on the Hogwarts grounds," said Peter, not looking up as he squinted at a copy of _Quidditch Weekly_. "It's not entirely unheard of."

Sirius scowled, cuffing Peter on the head. "I don't mean that you dunce," he said, shaking his head. "I mean, you would have never known, looking at them. Such an ordinary bunch of birds." This, the group could not deny. There was nothing in the demeanor of any of the Ravenclaw girls to suggest that they could be driven to murder. Except, of course, the soup incident involving one Lily Evans. Perhaps this had been an obvious tell, they all thought.

At that moment, the door rattled open to reveal Remus, back from his rounds. Just behind him, twiddling her thumbs, was the clever redhead that had just been on their minds. "Hullo," said Lily softly, peering around at the three boys in the cabin. "I was just dropping Remus off. I'll be off, then…"

She lingered for just a moment and Sirius took the opportunity to pull her into the already full cabin, pushing her into the seat next to Peter. The redhead stared incredulously around at the boys, who stifled their laughter. No student would take it kindly to hear them laughing after such grave news had come that morning. "We were just talking about the murder," said Peter, missing the mood entirely. Lily stiffened beside him.

" _Peter_ ," warned Remus, shaking his head.

Lily managed to shake her head. "It's fine," she promised. "It's not like we can ignore what happened." The Marauders all shared awkward glances. "But, I really _do_ need to go. I have to see…" She paused, feeling weird about the situation, "Ashton. And I wanted to stop at my cabin first."

"Happiest of holidays, Ginger," called Sirius as Lily navigated through the boys' gangly limbs to reach the door. "We'll stay in touch."

. . .

Platform 9 ¾ was filled to the brim with students and their guardians. Lily waved to Ashton, who was joined by his mother and father, as they departed the platform. The Kiplings were very kind to Lily but she felt odd, nonetheless. She couldn't help but think of an alternate situation, in which she was standing beside Asher, instead. Lily sighed, turning, and found herself in a tight embrace. "Marlene," she coughed.

"Lily, _please_ don't shut us out again during the holiday!" pleaded the blonde, head buried into Lily's shoulder. "You have to visit, too. We'll all get together, at some point. Maybe Dorcas will finally invite us to her mansion."

The kinky-haired girl glowered from behind Marlene. "I _do not_ have a _mansion_ ," she hissed, rolling her eyes, "and stop trying to use me, you tart! I'm already dropping you off at your house." Marlene laughed, pulling away from Lily. Dorcas frowned at Lily. "It's a shame that we couldn't drop you off, as well. You said your sister is picking you up?"

"Hopefully," jested Lily but was met only with frowns from her friends. Mary came up to them, then, looping her arm through Marlene's. "Are you going with them, too, Mary?"

Shaking her head, Mary broke into a wide smile. "My mum is just outside, waiting for me," she answered. "Apparently, her _boyfriend_ drove her here in his car. He has a car, isn't that great?"

"A car?" echoed Dorcas, eyebrows knitting. "Is that one of those metal, Muggle beasts?"

This launched an entire conversation on the matter, which Lily wasn't entirely keen on (given a headache she still had from the trauma of earlier). "I'm going to go," Lily said, jutting her thumb at the barrier behind her. "Petunia hates to wait." The girls rolled their eyes, bid Lily goodbye, and waved her off. Shouldering her bags, Lily made her way towards the barrier, heart heavy.

It wasn't easy being at Hogwarts.

She caught sight of James as she approached the barrier, who was some ways away and standing alongside a severe-looking couple. He blinked at her, opening his mouth as if he might say something. But Lily closed her eyes and stepped through the barrier. When she opened them, Petunia was standing on the other side, scowling as wizards and witches poured (somehow inconspicuously) from the secret platform.

But, it was much harder being at home, Lily thought.

. . .

When Lily woke up on Friday, Christmas Eve of 1976, she found that several parcels had been left on the front step. "You didn't bring them in when you got the mail," asked Lily of Petunia, carrying the packages into the kitchen. Her sister gave her a severe look but said nothing. Lily sighed. It had been a quiet ride home a few days prior, as well. She placed the packages on the counter (which was kept impeccably clean by her sister).

Each package was quite different. There was a small, narrow package wrapped perfectly in silver paper, which was from Ashton. Aside from his questionable scrawl, the gift was impeccable. Lily was glad that he had sent her a gift, as she had for him. After all, she would have felt weird, otherwise. The next package was large and shoddily wrapped in shiny red paper. The tag at the top read in big letters: _MARLENE MCKINNON._ Lily laughed and set the gift aside. As expected, the next two gifts were from Dorcas and Mary, an average sized green-wrapped gift and a basket wrapped in opaque cellophane, respectively.

Lily set the gifts underneath the tree, which she had taken great care to set up the day prior. She put all of her father's favorite ornaments on, just as she had the year prior, and decorated it with the popcorn tinsel that he loved so much. Petunia always said it was tacky; she hadn't tried to stop Lily, though. "Lily, dear, can you help me?" her mother called from the dining room.

The redhead slipped into the dining room, which was a rather small room that could only sit six people, at the most. Still, Lily preferred it that way. She couldn't imagine inviting too many people into their home. It was the selfish side of her, of course, that wanted to keep the home she grew up in entirely to herself.

Her mother's hair was done up in a haphazard twist. "Just set the nice porcelain plates down after I put the mats down, hon," asked her mother, managing a smile. Vernon, who was Petunia's positively plump boyfriend, was coming over to eat. As such, their mother had been in full drive since the early morning, making sure that everything was absolutely perfect for his arrival.

He came over often enough, Lily thought, that there was no need to fuss. Still, her mother had vacuumed the front rug more times than Lily could count. Lily set out the porcelain plates, which had been one of the gifts her mother had received at her wedding. They were a creamy white and the edged were painted with crimson flowers. Lily had always been quite partial to them.

Petunia strolled into the room, sipping her coffee. "Oh, mum, can't you buy some new plates, at some point?" she whined. "Those are so old."

"I think they're pretty," argued Lily.

The elder sister wrinkled her nose. "Did I _ask_ you?"

That was the end of the conversation, as Petunia left the room, nose stuck high into the air. Ms. Evans sighed. "I wish you two wouldn't fight," she said softly, glancing at Lily as she put out the silverware. "Your father would be so upset if he saw how you two act."

"Mum," started Lily. She didn't think it was fair. What had she done wrong? It was Petunia, Lily thought. But, she said nothing and helped her mother set out the napkins and the glassware. Even when her mother cursed herself out for not having bought a few more bottles of nice wine, Lily said nothing. It wasn't her place, she realized, feeling detached. Her life was so apart from that of her family's that it seemed that she didn't belong at all.

When, at last, Ms. Evans was satisfied with the state of the house ("I'm just going to watch the ham, you two relax,") Lily withdrew to her room. There, she, at last, examined the second part of Marlene's gift: a copy of _The Daily Rebel_ , which she'd smartly placed _under_ her parcel so that Petunia wouldn't notice it (and promptly lose her mind).

Included on the front cover was a note, scrawled in Marlene's trademark messy script with red ink: _Can you believe it?_ Beside the note, a picture of two familiar faces scowled at her. Adora Shanks and Jean Pirrip, Lily recognized, mouth falling open. Above their pictures, the title read, _Fifth Year Ravenclaw Students Found Guilty in Murder of Two Classmates_. The article itself detailed the trial, which was full of tears and desperate pleas from the parents of the girls.

In the end, Lily read, the two girls received a life sentence. As minors, they would carry out this sentence in a juvenile detention center, first, before moving to Azkaban upon coming of age. Lily shook her head, eyes finding the image of the girls again. They were oddly inanimate. She thought of other mug shots she'd seen, which screamed and struggled at the viewer. Lily placed the newspaper in the drawer of her desk.

Vernon would arrive soon. She used the remaining time to get ready and prepare _herself_.

. . .

"We have something to share,"

Lily looked up from her plate. Her sister was looking expectantly at her boyfriend, Vernon, and the girls' mother. Poppy Evans blinked at her elder daughter and gestured for her to continue. Petunia smiled giddily at Vernon and withdrew her hand from underneath the table, placing it daintily upon Vernon's plump, sausage-like fingers. The redhead stared at her, gaze drifting to her hand.

On her hand was an ornate and very expensive-looking ring. Ms. Evans' mouth fell open as she looked at Petunia, then Vernon. "Oh my," she said.

Vernon cleared his throat. "I was wondering, Poppy," he began gruffly. Lily winced at the use of her mother's first name. It felt wrong. "If you would give us your blessing, in the stead of your husband," he finished, beady eyes flicking momentarily to Lily. The redhead watched her mother very carefully, only chancing a glance at Petunia, who was also staring at their mother. Both of the girls' gazes carried an air of warning. Their intentions, however, were entirely opposite.

There did not exist a world in which Lily felt that Vernon Dursley, who had an exceptionally normal job, lived in a very normal town, and had a just average family, deserved Petunia Evans. Petunia Evans was not exceptionally pretty. She was very blonde, long-necked, and her eyes were a pale blue color. Neither was she particularly smart, though she did score well enough on her school exams. And, most especially, Petunia's demeanor was not the most charming. She had a short temper and a sharp tongue and she was far too concerned with the others' lives.

Still, Petunia was Lily's sister.

And to Lily Evans, that made her worth a great deal more than _Vernon Dursley._ Lily could not even wonder what kind of life the two would have together. Did Lily even want to imagine the type of _children_ they might have together? She shuddered at the thought. But, before Lily could object, Ms. Evans stammered out, "Well, of course, you have my blessing. Please take good care of my lovely Petunia."

Lily stood. She gaped at her mother, who was looking up at her with wide eyes. Petunia, however, had stood up as well. Her eyes were narrowed meanly as she sneered, "Don't say a word, you little freak!"

"Y-You can't!" shouted Lily. Her face felt hot. She turned to Vernon. "You can't marry _him_!"

"And who are _you_ to tell me that?" Petunia yelled back, pointing an accusatory finger in the redhead's direction. "How could you even think of calling me your sister? You're nothing but a freak, _Lily_."

Poppy opened her mouth as if she might say something. Lily looked over at her mother, who was opening and closing her mouth like a fish. And then she ran from the room, feeling as though all of the oxygen had been sucked from the air. She scrambled up the stairs, tripping over herself, and down the hallway. At last, she reached her room and flung the door open, soaking in the only comfort she had left.

The door slammed shut behind her as she paced about the room, breathing heavily. Lily wheezed, doubling over. It didn't feel real. She should have seen it coming. And yet...Lily pressed her hands against her stomach and breathed. Her head was swimming. Stumbling over to her bed, she sat down and felt the air go in and out of her lungs. Downstairs, she heard the screech of the chairs against the dining room floor as everyone got up from the table.

She told herself that if Petunia came up to her room then, that she could work on learning to accept the way things were. If her sister showed the smallest sign that she didn't want things to remain as they were, then Lily could try and make things work.

But, Petunia never came.

Instead, as Lily sat on her bed, head in her hands, she heard a knock at the window. Her head spun but she looked up, finding a pair of yellow eyes staring back at her. She stood up and traipsed towards the window, weak and weary, but curious nonetheless. The owl was majestic, the sort that Lily knew to cost a lot of money. Its feathers stood up in two horn-like spikes on either side of its head and it tilted its head curiously at her when she opened the window. With clawed talons, it moved further into her window sill. On its leg was tied a small piece of rolled parchment. Lily dragged a hand through her hair, sighing, and reached down to untie the parchment.

"Who are you?" asked Lily to the owl as she untied the letter. It cocked its head further to the side. Frowning, Lily held the small scroll of parchment in her palm. "Better question: who's your owner?"

The owl blinked slowly, which the redhead took as a cue to open the letter. Unfurling it, she read,

 _Evans,_

 _The merriest of Christmases to you. Sirius says, 'Hullo' as well._

 _J._

Lily set the letter down on her desk with a grimace. James Potter. Did he expect a reply? Rubbing her arms, Lily neared the open window, where the Potters' owl still sat. It let her pet the feathers above its beak, letting out small chirping sounds. "Hungry?" asked Lily and the bird nipped at her finger. She smiled, chuckling, "Okay, okay." Fishing around in her bedside table drawer, she found the treats she kept around for when her friends' owls dropped off letters for her.

The owl took the treats greedily, downing three or four. Lily stroked its feathers kindly for a while before strolling over to her bed and collapsing onto her back. Her ceiling was painted vibrant yellow, in contrast to the lavender of her walls, a request she'd made of her father when she was just ten years old. He abided and the family had spent the entire day in Lily's room, sunny paint dripping into their hair and onto their clothes. Lily felt a smile tug onto her lips. Things were easier back then.

"Lily flower," said her mother from the other side of the door, rapping her knuckles against it. "I know you're upset, but can't we just talk about things?"

Casting an urgent glance at the owl in her window, Lily bounded for the door. Opening it a crack, she met the doughy brown eyes of her mother. Everything about Poppy Evans was soft, even the small frown she then wore, "If you know that I'm upset, then why are you going through with it?"

"What do you expect me to do, love?"

Lily's eyes stung. "I don't know," cried Lily, keeping the door wedged tightly shut so that her mother couldn't see inside. "You're our _mother_. You're supposed to care about these things. How could you let her...how could you…" Lily sniffed back tears and met her mother's gaze with red eyes. "If Tuney marries that man, I won't go. I won't do it."

"Lily,"

But she had already shut the door behind her and pressed her back up against it. She still heard her mother on the other side. Ultimately, she walked away, her kitten heels clicking against the hardwood floors. Lily took deep breaths to keep from crying. It was not worth her tears, she thought, but felt one spill over anyway.

Lily wiped her cheek hastily and returned to her bed, sitting gingerly on the edge. As far as Lily was concerned, life was very unfair. If she had been born stronger, then she wouldn't want to cry so much all the time. Her mother used to say that it was brave to show your emotions. But as Lily's heart gave a painful wrench, she thought that that couldn't be correct. She was weak and she wanted terribly to be like one of her friends: Dorcas or Marlene. Even Mary. The redhead's mind floated to the boy who'd written her the letter that now sat on her desk. Yes, James Potter especially. He took everything in stride.

Still, perhaps he was driving her a bit mad. Lily glanced over at her desk, made of wicker and coated in thick white paint that was peeling and chipping off, and sighed. The letter lay open on her desk. It wasn't as though they were friends, she thought. So, why had James sent her a letter? Even if only to wish her a Merry Christmas, he hadn't needed to go through all of the trouble.

James was someone she couldn't hope to understand.

Even so, Lily rose from her bed and approached her desk, settling into the chair, which whined underneath her. She tapped her nails which were coated in a coat of chipped pearl-toned nail polish, left over from the Slugclub Christmas Party. Lily knew that she had a choice. She could respond, or she could simply not.

The question was, how would things change from either choice?

She bit the nail of her thumb, staring down at the parchment spread out on her desk. Picking it up, she scanned it once again. From her window, James' owl hooted irritably at her. "I know, I know," she replied softly to it, sighing. "What should I do?" The owl blinked its wide eyes at her and Lily turned back to her desk.

 _Dangerous, dangerous_ , her mind warned. She did not heed its warning as she pulled out some of her parchment. _Dear Potter_ , she wrote but quickly scribbled it out. Lily groaned, tilting her head back to look at the ceiling. At last, she leaned forward once more.

 _Potter,_

 _Merry Christmas,_

 _L._

* * *

 _A/N;_ An exceptionally short chapter to balance out the absurd length of the last chapter. Sorry about the recent willy-nilly updates. Unfortunately, I'll be taking a short break from updating over the weekend to both give myself a bit of a break (I've had a lot going on) and to replenish my store of pre-written chapters. Hope that isn't too much of an inconvenience!

Anyway, _as always_ , feel free to favorite, follow, and review (if it strikes your fancy)! [SIGNED, SAM]

 _Disclaimer:_ Nope, Harry Potter's still not mine.


	13. Chapter 12

_The clock never stops._

* * *

"The Parsimonis are still coming to this year's party," said Mrs. Potter over dinner, not looking up as she cut her meal into small pieces. James choked on the food in his mouth, quieting as his mother glanced up to give him an inquisitive look. "Is there an issue, James?"

The entire table, which really only consisted of James, his mother and father, and Sirius, watched him. The messy-haired boy shook his head, shrugging. "Just surprised, is all," he said truthfully. Then, "Actually, I didn't realize they ever came to our parties."

Mrs. Potter finished the food in her mouth before answering, "They do, occasionally. I work with Giada Parsimoni. Their family usually vacations during the holidays but this year...things being as they are...I suppose they decided to stay home." Nobody said anything at this and the quiet scraping of cutlery against porcelain resumed. "Fleamont, did you book some different entertainment this time? I know last year's group were friends of yours, but really…"

Sirius threw James a significant look from across the table. He was, James assumed, curious about what James had to (but wouldn't, in front of his mother) say. As dinner drew to a close, James excused himself and Sirius, but promised his father that they wouldn't forget to come back down and play a round of wizard's chess with him ("Winner takes a bottle of my best Firewhiskey," Fleamont Potter had whispered earlier so that his wife wouldn't hear).

"D'you think the whole family will come?" asked James once the boys were out of earshot.

Pausing to open the door to James' room, Sirius threw his friend a shrug. "Probably not Pippa, don't you think?" he said, stopping to grab his cigarettes from the top of James' dresser. For James, smoking was a hobby; for Sirius, it was a necessity. They traipsed onto James' attached balcony. "I mean, if two of my best friends were convicted of having murdered my other best friends, I wouldn't be too jolly."

"I s'pose you're right," said James, taking the cigarette Sirius was holding out for him. He lit it with the end of his wand and did the same for Sirius, who took a long puff. "Still, I wanted to talk to her. Maybe to apologize?"

Sirius snorted, shaking ashes off the tip of the cigarette and looked at James. "What for?"

The other Marauder shrugged.

"I think you've got yourself too wrapped up in all of this," said Sirius after a while. "It's done. Case closed. You should be happy. Smoke a lil', drink a lil', have a shag. Celebrate."

James smiled around the butt of his cigarette. "The only thing keeping me from calling you a bloody git," he said, withdrawing the dwindling white cylinder from his mouth, "is six years of friendship."

"Here's to that,"

The Potter's estate sprawled out before them, painted in inky black, the sun having set long ago. Just beyond his mother's well-maintained garden was a line of densely packed evergreens, but that did not, in the least, represent the extent of the Potter's property. The trees separated the garden from the vast expanse of meadow just beyond the trees, the very same meadow that James and friends had frolicked through in their youth.

Games of pretend were once James' very favorite activity. They played faux games of Quidditch or declared themselves to be dragon tamers. However, his very favorite game was the one in which they acted as Aurors and Dark Wizards. What great fun it had been to act as Albus Dumbledore and defeat one Gellert Grindelwald.

Things were different now.

James tapped his cigarette on the balcony railing, watching the ashes float away. They weren't pretending anymore. This was just life. His mother was always talking of death. "Do you remember _so-and-so_ ," she'd say over tea, frowning, then continue, "They were found dead last night. Dark Mark in the sky above the house."

Everything was changing around him, constantly. If James blinked, he was bound to miss something. As a child, it seemed as though the entire world stopped the moment his eyelids slid shut. At some point, he'd awoken to find that that was no longer true. Sometimes, even if he was watching very carefully, the world got away from him.

And what if, one day, everything changed beyond recognition?

Would James still be able to pick out his best friend's grin, his mother's warm eyes, that mane of startlingly red hair?

The bespectacled boy glanced over at his best friend, whose gaze was trained on the treeline, cigarette sticking out from the corner of his mouth. It was much too cold, but he was still wearing a t-shirt. Several new tattoos crept down the expanse of his arms. Others disappeared underneath his sleeves. Those scars that Sirius couldn't conceal with clothes, he'd tattooed over.

Of course, the tattoos had only infuriated his parents. After all, he refused to get the one tattoo that they so wished him to. "If you keep staring at me like that, Prongs," Sirius drawled, smirking, "I might start to doubt your feelings for Evans." His grey eyes met James' brown ones with a glimmer.

"Don't ever change, Padfoot," James responded, smashing the butt of his cigarette with his heel.

Sirius laughed loudly. "Wouldn't dream of it."

. . .

 _Potter,_

 _Thank you for the invite, but I won't be able to make it to your New Year's Eve party. My sister is bringing her (absolutely dreadful) fiancé over to celebrate with us. He's a terrible bore. Like a rounder, smaller-headed Bertram Aubrey. Anyway, you'd despise him._

 _I must say, having to miss out on seeing you absolutely pissed (again) has me grieving...but I'll make do._

 _Do tell Sirius to stop trying to communicate with me through_ your _letters. If he's so desperate for a chat, then he should just write his own sodding letter. And, seriously, Potter, if he's trying to talk to_ me _, then you_ must _be mistreating him. To answer his question, though, Remus is my favourite. After all, he doesn't cause me nearly as much trouble._

 _I'm surprised to hear that things are very dull on your end. I figured the Potter household would be as lively as imaginable. Granted, I've never met your parents and they're probably not a handful like you (if you make that into a sexual innuendo, Potter, don't expect a response). Things are rather dull here, as well. I spend most of my time writing letters or watching The Beatles on the telly._

 _I suppose you don't know about The Beatles...or the telly...what_ do _they teach in Muggle Studies? Anyway, I'll tell you about both some time. Potter, if I don't hear from you again, then enjoy the rest of your holidays. Don't make a fool out of yourself on NYE (for your mother's sake, if nothing else)._

 _Oh, hell, might as well: tell Sirius I said, "Happy New Year."_

 _And happy new year to you, too._

 _Regards,_

 _Lily_

The redhead blinked down at her signature. _Odd_ , she thought and stood up to fetch the envelopes stowed in her dresser. Shuffling through knick-knacks, she at last procured an envelope. Folding the letter, Lily turned the parchment over in her hand. Her signature wasn't the only odd bit. The entire phenomenon of receiving and sending letters to James Potter was new and strange.

It was not, she dared to think, _bad_. James was prone to spelling mistakes and his handwriting was far from perfect, but his letters were more thoughtful than even she could manage. Stranger still, their letters often teetered between perfunctory and personal. Perhaps it was James who had tipped the scales towards personal when he'd signed his last letter with _James_. Or maybe it was Lily, who had not only signed her letter as such but had also disclosed to James her feelings towards her future brother-in-law.

Lily moved to put the letter into the crisp white envelope, but faltered. Had she said too much? She was tempted to tear the letter up and start over. But, it was late. And she'd already done that too many times. So, sighing, she placed the letter in the envelope and sealed it before she could change her mind. She scrawled out the address, went to the window, where James' owl had been watching her from, and fastened the envelope to the bird's outstretched leg. "It must be tiring, flying back and forth like this," whispered Lily, stroking the feathers just above the owl's beak.

It cooed in response, blinking at her. Lily unlatched her window, throwing it open, and watched as James' owl dove out and into the darkness. She trained her gaze to see it go, and when it was no longer visible, she shut the window with a shiver and crawled into bed.

What did their exchange of letters mean for their relationship, Lily wondered, pulling her knees to her chest. Relationship, of course, was far too big of a word. The redhead mulled the word "friends" over in her mind. "Me and Potter...friends…" Lily said into the still air of her room. The word tasted funny on her tongue, but not wrong. Still cold, she pulled her blankets up to her chin and rested her back on the headboard of her bed.

There was a knock at her door, shortly followed by a creak as it opened to reveal the small frame of Lily's mother. Things had smoothed over since the Christmas Eve dinner. That was not to say that anything had changed or been talked out. But, in the silence that the house had fallen into, Lily had accepted the inevitable. With each passing minute, Petunia drifted further away from her. If Lily tried to keep her tethered, it would only make the separation harder.

Still, Poppy Evans treaded carefully around her daughters. She soothed the irritable Petunia while whispering comforting words to the vulnerable Lily. In this way, she hoped the wounds would heal over. They were bound to scar. But, no fight of the Evans sisters hadn't left scars. The redhead watched as her mother entered with a cup of tea, setting it on the bedside table before taking a seat at the edge of the bed. She was still wearing her nice blouse and smart beige skirt; she had yet to change since arriving back from work.

"You shouldn't work so late, Mum," said Lily finally, when it appeared that her mother was not going to say anything. "You'll get sick at this rate and I... _we_ can't have that. You need to be healthy for Petunia's wedding."

"And yours, eventually," Poppy added, looking at her daughter sadly.

Lily shifted uncomfortably, but nodded. "And mine...eventually."

"Your father was so looking forward to walking his daughters down the aisle," her mother went on, looking at her fingers. She spent all day typing, so the pads of her fingers were calloused. When she looked up, she had tears in her eyes. "But, don't worry, darling. I'll be there for him. I promise."

"Oh, Mum," sniffed Lily, launching forward to embrace her mother. She scooted closer, resting her chin on her mother's shoulder. "Dad wouldn't have liked him," the redhead said softly, arms wrapped around her mother's middle.

Poppy didn't object. Still, she sighed: "He would have respected her decision, though."

Undoubtedly, she was right, Lily realized. Her father had been an uncommonly understanding person. Even when he didn't agree, he had an uncanny ability to see issues from all sides. Perhaps for this reason, he always knew just what to say. Lily wished that was something he had passed down to her.

"I'd better be off to bed, darling," her mother said, turning her head to lay a kiss on Lily's cheek. "Sleep well. Don't let your tea get cold."

The door clicked shut behind her as she left, leaving Lily curled up at the edge of her bed, frowning. She reached for her tea and took a sip. Milk, two sugars. Even after all this time, her mother still knew how she took her tea. Lily smiled into the rim of her cup. Her grin dimmed, however, as she recalled her mother's rather haggard appearance. There were streaks of grey in her strawberry blonde hair and her wrinkles were multiplying and deepening. She seemed to grow ever slighter, too, and Lily thought it likely that she was sustaining herself on only biscuits and tea. It had been like that when her father had first passed.

The long hours worried her, too. It wasn't as though Poppy Evans enjoyed work. In Lily's visit to her mother's workplace, she had found it exceedingly drab and void entirely of the cheer that her mother once so embodied. Lily could only imagine that her mother was taking on longer hours to make up for the loss of her father's income and the debts incurred through his hospital stay.

She suddenly felt very selfish. At school, she hadn't often thought about her mother's predicament. Lily's school fees were far from within the family's budget. Still, every year her mother scraped together the funds to send Lily off to another year at Hogwarts. Then there was Petunia's wedding and dowry to consider. The redhead sunk onto her back, staring up at the ceiling, her tea forgotten beside her.

While she was fussing about whether or not someone was her friend, her family had been in dire straights. Lily bit her lip. Dropping out of school was out of the question, her mother would not have it. And it was certainly not what her father wanted, either. She supposed that there were relatives, albeit distant, that she could write to for help. Of course, if Petunia found out, she'd be mortified, which would only further complicate their relationship.

Still fretting, Lily fell into a fitful sleep. Hours later, through a drowsy fog, she heard the front door shut and the car pull out of the driveway. Still, Lily would not awake until the sun's hot rays poured into her room, filling it with warmth.

The house was cold and quiet. Lily removed her blankets and swung her feet off the bed, a chill shooting through her as her toes met with the freezing wooden floor. Wincing, Lily grabbed the tea cup off her bedside table and crept out of her room, down the stairs, and into the kitchen. It was there that she found that the house was very much not empty. Watery blue eyes stared at her from across the kitchen, where Petunia stood with a mug pressed to her lips.

"I thought you went to work," whispered Lily, glancing at her sister's languid frame and finding it clad in silken pajamas. The redhead clasped her arms tightly against her.

Petunia opened her mouth as if to say something, then, thinking better of it, snapped her lips shut and strode from the kitchen, pounding up the stairs and slamming her bedroom door. This had become familiar. The silent treatment. Resigned, Lily padded toward the stove, replaced the kettle, and lit the burner.

Then, slipping on her shoes, Lily made for the front door. She dashed outside to grab the mail, which included her copy of _The Daily Rebel_ , and hurried back into the house. There was still a dusting of snow on the ground from days previous and the frigid temperatures had not let up. Lily shut the door and kicked off her shoes, chilled to the bone. On her way back to the kitchen, she stole a blanket that her mother had knit from the sitting room and curled up with it on the chair in the corner of the kitchen.

The headlines were grim, as usual. Another missing wizard. Heinous signs posted in Diagon Alley. Ministry officials skirting around important questions. Worse still, there were rumours that a key piece of legislation that protected non-Pureblood wizards from workplace discrimination was to be repealed. Lily's blood boiled, knuckles white around the sides of the paper.

The whistle of the kettle forced her out of her brooding. She reached out for the handle of the kettle and her skin screamed on contact with the searing metal. Lily hissed, drawing her hand back, and fumbled to turn off the gas. Then, she rushed for the sink, letting lukewarm water run over the blister already forming on her hand.

This was certainly _not_ how she had wanted to start her day.

. . .

"Hey, Padfoot," called James, eyebrows furrowed, "what are...is...The Beatles?"

Amused, Sirius looked up from the latest issue of _Quidditch Weekly_. " _They_ are a Muggle band, Prongs," he answered, cocking an eyebrow, "why do you ask?"

James pretended not to hear his question, head bent over a piece of parchment, a smile playing on his lips. Sirius discarded his magazine, stalking toward his friend. He reached for the parchment, but James deftly pulled it away. Again, Sirius lunged for it, and this time James shot up from his chair and moved away. "Padfoot!"

"Ah," laughed Sirius. "It must be another love letter from Evans, then?"

"They are not _love letters_!" James protested.

Sirius pointed at him. "So it _is_ from Evans. Frankly, I'm surprised she's still responding."

James scowled. "You think so low of me," he sighed, folding the parchment and slipping it into his pocket. "She wishes you a happy new year, by the way."

He opened his mouth to comment, but James quickly added:

"And she asks that you send your own damn letters from now on."

Sirius frowned. "Wow, it really is Evans, then," he snorted. The bespectacled Marauder narrowed his eyes at him. "Frankly, I thought you might be making all of this up."

"Jeez, thanks," said James, opening his bedroom door and following Sirius out. "You wouldn't happen to own any music by those - er - _Beatles_?"

He was met with an eye roll. "Don't you think you would have seen the record lying around?" he responded, trotting down the stairs after James. "Ask Marlene or Mary. They love those blokes." The boys made their way into the kitchen, where Fleamont Potter sat rifling through a drawer. "How goes it, Mr. Potter?"

"Alright, Sirius," responded the aging man, rubbing his temple. "I'm looking for the address of the new entertainer for this year's party. I know I wrote it down somewhere. Wouldn't have this problem if Mrs. Potter just let my friend play. Sure, he can't hit the high notes, but his Celestina Warbeck impression is spot-on!"

"Dad, trust me, Mum is right on this one," James said, grabbing one of the Danish pastries from a platter on the counter. "Speaking of, where's Mum?"

"She had to go into the Ministry. Apparently, they have a few more questions to run by her," Fleamont grumbled, flipping through a dusty leather-bound journal. James looked to Sirius, frowning, and set the pastry down. "Don't give me that look, James, my boy, I don't understand it anymore than you do."

"They were here all day yesterday questioning us!" he replied indignantly. "I don't understand what else they think they're gonna find."

Sirius sighed. "Count your blessings, Prongs," he began, sliding into a seat at the counter, "they haven't taken her into custody. That means they don't have enough of a case against her."

"Mum would never betray the Ministry! She's been there longer than most of the people investigating her. How dare they try to blame her?"

Fleamont let out a triumphant shout. "Aha! I've found it," he declared. Then, turning to James, he said lowly for just the three of them to hear, "The Ministry that your mother started her career working for...and the Ministry now in control...are two very different organizations, my boy."

With that, Fleamont excused himself from the room, grumbling about the state of the Floo network during the holiday season. "Hey, it's gonna be fine, mate," said Sirius, rubbing James' shoulder. "What could they possibly find on your Mum? This'll all work itself out."

Exactly what they _could_ find on his mother was precisely James' problem. He thought constantly of the documents he had nicked while visiting her at the Ministry earlier that year. What would become of his family if that was found out? Worse, how would he explain himself to his parents? They wouldn't settle for the excuse of curiosity. Neither would the Ministry.

James finished his pastry quickly as Sirius fished around the pantry for something to eat. Then, standing rather abruptly, James made for the stairs. "Off to write another love letter to Evans?" called Sirius. James rolled his eyes and Sirius sung, " _Roses are red, so is your hair. Get in my bed, we'd make a great pair."_

He didn't mind the teasing. After all, there _was_ something about their letters that seemed illicit. Like they were playing with something neither of them quite understood. James gathered parchment and quills from the drawers of his desk. And with a great, heavy sigh, he began to write.

. . .

Lily didn't know what had gotten into her. She wasn't the type to wait for mail. She most certainly was not the type to wait for mail from James Potter. But, the past two days had found her sprawled across her bed, wrapped in paisley bed coverings, wishing that a letter would arrive from that particular bespectacled, annoying boy. Recently, Lily was beginning to feel she didn't know herself as well as she thought she had.

It wasn't that she had expected a letter to come. There was so little time until they returned to school, anyway, so why would James bother to write when he could tell her in person? Still, she thought, the new year had not yet arrived and surely he could spare some time to write her well wishes.

She reminded herself that she had no right to James' time. Or his well wishes, for that matter. And why was she so _wanting_ of them, anyway? Lily changed her position in bed, legs becoming further entangled in her sheets. Surely there was something else she could be doing with her time. She was embarrassed to say that she hadn't even begun to work on the assignments that had been assigned for over the break. And all of the books she'd wanted to read were left forgotten on her bedside table.

Perhaps something really _was_ wrong with her.

It was then that she heard the sharp click of something hitting her window pane. Lily rose quickly from her bed, tripping on her sheets, which she hastily detangled herself from, and made for the window. _The horror_ , she thought, _I'm making this much of a fool of myself for…_ She couldn't even bare to finish the thought. She felt even worse upon remembering that this was the second time she'd worked herself into a tizzy. The first being when she received a letter from Dorcas, which she thought was from James.

Having wrenched the frigid window open, in flew the now familiar owl owned by the Potter family. "Well, hello," said Lily, regarding the bird excitedly. It stared unamused back at her. She coaxed the letter out of its mouth with help from a spare owl treat she had found in her belongings. The bird placated, Lily tore the letter open, sinking down into her desk chair.

 _Lily,_ it began in James' messy scrawl, and she read on greedily.

 _I just got your letter. Things here...are busy, to say the least. The party is always a bit of an affair, as you can imagine_ (Lily could not imagine; her family didn't throw grand parties). _And Sirius is a small child that needs constant attention. Always throwing tantrums. He's at that age, you know. I'm sure you're used to it with yours. Marlene and Mary, I mean. Anyway, real shame you can't make it to the party. We could use some more red around, to be honest. Then again, I think the Prewetts will be here, so we won't be too deprived._

 _I'm sorry to hear about you sister's chap. Comparing him to Bertram...you've definitely painted a vivid picture. Also, I would let Sirius know that he should write to you, but I'll be honest, I'm not sure that he knows how to write. Will have to find out and let you know._

 _And of course I know the Beetles. They have that one song about the girl that's really nice. You know the one, yeah? Well, I at least know the telly. Haven't ever seen one, but I've heard about them, for sure. Muggles really are amazing sometimes, I must say._

It seemed to Lily as though there was supposed to be more to that paragraph, but James skipped two lines before beginning again, in different colored ink.

 _I meant to finish this earlier, but my Mum got back from the Ministry and we all talked for a long time and I forgot to close this up. But, I'm glad I didn't send it off yet. I guess it's easier to wrap my head around everything when I'm writing. Sirius just gets it. But, sometimes, you need to say it (or, write it...in this case) in order for it to feel real._

 _I think you know that my Mum works in the Ministry. As an auror. Before you get cross with me about assuming everyone knows everything about my life, I'd just like to say...Well, nothing, I suppose you might be right. Anyway, my Mum is an Auror. And she's been drawn into this (apparently) department-wide investigation in order to root out any undercover spies for You-Know-Who. It's bullshit. My Mum would never work for You-Know-Who. My Mum is one of his most vocal critics! And she has been, even from the beginning, when there were still a lot of people that didn't know how to feel about him._

 _That's not what bothers me. The investigation. I know she's clean. I'm pretty sure they do, too, anyway. This is all just...politics What bothers me is the way she's taking it. She's a fighter. And I know she won't go down without a fight. But, I see more grey in her hair. And she looks more tired. She's up later, rifling through her papers. She's been suspended, temporarily, and yet it seems like she's always rushing to do something or be somewhere. And yet...she acts like everything is fine. Not with the world...she's always bringing up the latest death or some other heinous act. But, when it comes to us, to our family, to her...she just pretends it's not happening. Like this career she worked her entire life isn't on the line. Like our family isn't in any danger. She forces small talk and throws parties and sneaks around when she thinks none of us are watching._

 _I don't know if this makes sense. I just want her to stop acting like this is something we can handle, like this is something that shouldn't disrupt our lives. I want to understand her, but I can't. Maybe I'm too much like my Dad. Too emotional._

 _Anyway, I'm sorry for dropping all of this on you. I meant to just say: Happy New Years. I think I had something else to share, too, but I can't remember. Something about the party? Yeah, not sure. Thanks for writing to me, Lily. And thanks for the well wishes. I'll see you soon._

 _Happy New Year._

 _James_

If Lily had thought she knew James, she realized then that she very much did not.

. . .

It was true what people said about the Potter house. It _was_ magnificent. The home was not as large as the manors of their fellow Purebloods. The property itself, however, was sprawling. The estate encompassed nearly fifty acres, though it was covered mostly in dense forest, save for a rolling meadow towards the back of the property. There were three standing structures on the Potter estate: the home itself, the shed, and the windmill in the midst of the meadow.

Each of the buildings served as a timestamp upon the property. First, the windmill, terribly damaged by storms of years past, was a vestigial remnant of the original Potter home, torn down in 1892. Then, the shed, which had once served as the servant's quarters, had been renovated in 1907. Renovated was to be used loosely, however, as the shed was converted into little more than a storage place for broken things and broomsticks.

The construction of the Potter family home had ushered in a new era of prestige for the Potters. Made of brick, the home was just comfortably-sized, with three bedrooms and an excess of living space. There was a study and an accompanying library, a sitting room, a drawing room, a sizable kitchen which flowed into an impressively large dining room, which the Potters hosted their fair share of formal dinners in. From its final date of construction, in 1894, the home was charming, a space to be revered.

It was not until Euphemia Fawley married into the Potter family, however, that the residence truly earned the envy of the middling and upper wizarding classes. The conservatory at the back of the house, off of the drawing room, was to become iconic, known for the fantastic parties thrown within its walls. A clever charm allowed the modest conservatory to expand exponentially in size, allowing for the crowds of over fifty that often showed up to the Potters annual gatherings. The plush upholstery, rich-toned woods, and intricate rugs were also Euphemia's doing. Though a professional witch, Euphemia had an unparalleled flare for interior design.

However, it was the foyer that greeted Pippa Parsimoni when her family arrived on the stoop of the Potter home. A house elf bowed the family into the home, taking their coats before disappearing with a _snap_. Pippa peered up the wide staircase to the second floor and craned her neck to admire the crystal chandelier above their heads. It had been years since she had last stepped foot into the Potter house, and she had not appreciated it nearly enough in her youth.

Her mother's hand on her back was firm as the family maneuvered into the drawing room. She caught the disgruntled glance of one of her classmates, whose name she could not place. Periodically, her parents stopped to shake the hand of a colleague or fellow socialite. Each time, they looked pityingly over at Pippa, who smiled charmingly. _Yes, I'm fine_ , said her smile. _Don't look at me like that_ , it pleaded.

When Euphemia Potter approached them, her son just behind her, Pippa's mother elbowed her in the side. Pippa's barely-there grimace melted into a bright smile. "I haven't seen you since you were but a little thing," remarked Mrs. Potter. Pippa responded smoothly, slipping in a compliment, but her gaze flicked over the elder women's shoulder to meet a pair of harder hazel eyes. "Come," Euphemia said, steering Pippa towards her son, "James will take you to the refreshments. You're looking peakish, darling."

Pippa's parents and Euphemia moved off, leaving their respective children standing in awkward silence. "Er," began James, scratching at the back of his head, "the drinks are this way." He turned his back and started for the opposite corner, glancing back curiously to make sure that Pippa was following. She did, unusually timid, eyes trained on his back. "We have ginger beer, birch beer, butterbeer, punch, and water," he said, jutting his thumb back at the banquet table behind him.

"I'll need something a little harder than that to get through this night," joked the blonde.

James quirked an eyebrow at her, turning to hide the beginnings of a smirk on his lips. "I'm afraid the goblets are bewitched, love," he said, evenly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers. Then, leaning forward so he was level with her, he went on lowly, "Though I've heard there is a rose bush in the far corner that smells peculiarly of firewhiskey."

He leaned back, his expression even, baring no sign that he had said anything out of the ordinary. "And I suppose the rose bushes here often smell so...intoxicating?" she replied easily, following him towards the rose bush in question. There was nothing at all to suggest that it was not a normal rose bush. However, as she drew closer, there was no mistaking that the flute of a bottle stuck out of the soil.

When James turned around to face her, he seemed to be sizing her up. Then, he at last responded: "Nah. Only when sad blondes say they need a drink." Pippa peered up at him oddly. He turned again, slipping the bottle out of the dirt in a flash. No one seemed to notice James slide the bottle into her hand; they didn't notice Pippa clumsily unscrew the top and tip the bottle back onto her lips. Several seconds passed as her throat seared and her eyes watered, until the bottle was pulled unceremoniously from her lips. "That's enough, that's _definitely_ enough."

Pippa pouted at him, her throat still tingling.

"Oh, don't give me that look," he chuckled, taking a swig before returning the bottle to its place in the potted plant. He narrowed his eyes. "How old are you, anyway?"

"Fifteen," she answered easily, feeling increasingly warm inside.

James gawked. " _Fifteen_! Shit. My mum will have my _neck_ if she finds out," he cursed, running a hand through his already disheveled hair.

"I won't tell," Pippa giggled. "And I thought you'd have known how old I was. Seems everyone knows about the the Ravenclaw girls in _my_ year now." She hiccupped, flushed, and immediately felt as though she had said too much. "Plus, your girlfriend _Evans_ has been down my throat all semester." Now she had definitely said too much, and realizing as much, she looked quickly away.

When the elder boy did not respond, she turned back to look at him. He was giving her the oddest expression. "Evans and I are not...we're not...no," he stammered out, finally. "Anyway, I suppose I should have known how old you were. Don't tell anyone, but sometimes, I can be quite daft."

The blonde was giving James an appraising look. He wanted to squirm, but remained carefully casual. It hadn't been his intention to talk to Pippa Parsimoni when the night had begun. Sirius had long since convinced him that there was no need for niceties. And yet, his mother had had other plans, beckoning him immediately over to the Parsimonis as soon as they had entered the conservatory. He was surprised to find Pippa Parsimoni looking uncomfortable, sad, and very pretty.

Her navy cocktail dress was modest, but the color and cut suited her legs perfectly. James felt embarrassed by how distracted he was by her soft blonde hair and delicate curves. He was even more alarmed by how easily they got along. Their conversation flowed naturally, occasionally punctuated by the appearance of James' friends or mutual acquaintances. James shuddered to think what Lily would say about their interactions.

The redhead had not been subtle about her feelings towards Pippa Parsimoni. Lily had aired on the side of caution with Pippa from the very beginning of their investigation. And yet, James found it increasingly hard to see in Pippa what Lily had.

Many hours later and too many shots to count deep, Pippa was flushed and giggling as James recounted the story of one of his pranks. She brushed tears of mirth out of her eyes as James smiled lazily at her. They dimmed into comfortable silence. Unable to stop himself, words came tumbling out, "I'm sorry about your friends, Pippa. Nobody deserves that."

She shifted uncomfortably, visibly sobering. "It's...fine."

Undeterred, James pressed on. "No," he insisted, "you don't deserve to look so...so...so _sad_."

Pippa did not have a chance to say anything. Euphemia Potter swept up to them, beaming. "Having a good time?" she prefaced before quickly turning to regard the whole room. "It is almost midnight! I would like to give my sincerest gratitude to all of you for choosing to welcome the new year with me and my family. Help yourselves to champagne as we countdown the seconds until 1977!"

With a flourish of her wand, a countdown appeared above their heads, in shimmering gold. The room rumbled with excitement as necks craned towards the countdown. Euphemia smiled at the two teens before disappearing into the crowd to find her husband. Pippa looked back at James, opening her mouth as if she wanted to say something. Instead, she elected to smile at him, her eyes crinkling at the edges and sparkling.

 _Five_.

James watched as Pippa's smile dimmed, eyes roving briefly over the room before coming to rest on him.

 _Four_.

She seemed to consider him, taking in his poorly-tamed hair, askew glasses, and fitted dress robes. James Potter did not have Sirius Black's dashing looks, but there was something in the line of his jaw and the sparkle of his eyes that made him just as dangerous.

 _Three_.

His hazel eyes darted nervously from her to the guests counting down behind her. He was feeling a little dizzy. The firewhiskey that he and Sirius had been sneaking all night was getting to him, at last. Pippa looked very beautiful.

 _Two._

Her fingers bumped into his, testing, and when he did not pull away, her touch moved up his hand and onto his wrist. At last, their eyes met. In her eyes, a question. Then,

 _One._

Pippa craned her neck upwards, lifting herself delicately onto her tip-toes. She paused, the guests cheering around her, champagne bottles popping and confetti flying. Softly, chastly, her lips met the corner of his.

"Happy New Year, James,"

* * *

 _A/N;_ Be honest, how surprised are you to see an update? I'm sure some of you thought that this story was never coming back. But, aha! Fooled you. In reality, life is crazy and I have been feeling a bit...strange about the HP franchise this past year. I still love it and I always will, but there are just...things I'm not pleased with. Specifically related to views held by J.K. Rowling. Not gonna get into it here. Anyway, I really cannot guarantee updates. I'm in such a weird life state at the moment and my will to write fluctuates constantly. I do hope you've enjoyed _this_ update, though! As for me, I'm not in love with this chapter, to be honest. If I have time, I'd like to go back and update it and change how things are done. But, I also have been sitting on this chapter for the better part of this year, so I need to be rid of it! _Hopefully_ , the coming chapters will turn out better...the difficult thing about working on something for a long time is that your opinion on things change dramatically. I'm wondering now if I should change things, but I'm also thinking that I would just waste my time doing that, haha! ALSO, please disregard the fact that The Beatles were no longer active at this point. I just felt like including them, have mercy. I have some replies for you all, though:

 _Review Replies_ ; LifeLikeGreen: Thank you so much for reviewing! I am sorry to have kept you waiting for an update, but I hope this works for now...I have absolutely no idea when I might be able to get another chapter up, but I will try my very hardest to get it out before the end of the year? Hopefully? Fingers crossed? Thanks for sticking with this story!

Anonymous Guest: Thank you for reviewing; I'm so sad that you reviewed as a guest so I can't properly thank you! This was honestly so sweet and motivating...I can't even begin to tell you. I'm glad you like the story thus far. I am excited to see how the rest of the story will be received. Hope you enjoyed the update and have a great day!

Nonia Welsh: Thanks for the review! Because I've gotten a few reviews about James and his smoking, I feel like I ought to address it here! So, I agree, I don't see James being a _smoker_. But, he's sixteen. People do incredibly stupid stuff at sixteen and I will remind you that this is the 70s and people weren't _terribly_ concerned about the health risks. Those are my comments on that and I assure you that smoking will be explored and discussed more as we go on.

Wanderlustatheart: Thanks for reviewing and I'm glad you're enjoying it! I see where you're coming from about the rashness of his decision to invite Lily, but I like to think of it as a nod to the Ron and Hermione debacle from Goblet of Fire (I may be remembering incorrectly and it may have only been in the movies, forgive me). It was meant to be a friendly gesture.

Suzie's Q: So, you left a number of reviews (most quite lengthy) and although I would love to address every part of each one, I'll have to be a bit more selective for the sake of space! Oh, and thank you _so_ much for your reviews! Very appreciated! First, I'm sad that James didn't meet your expectations but I think you gave some _really_ great advice on areas to improve his character, so thank you. I also found your comments on the "Lily-James vacuum" to be really insightful and helpful, definitely something to improve on in the future. Sirius is not living with his parents at this point, by the way! I don't think that I mentioned that, though, so that's very sharp of you. I really enjoyed all of your critiques, overall, and I'm excited to go forward and clarify certain things. Again, thank you so much for your thoughtful (and very kind!) reviews.

Finally, I have one last overall comment to share with all of you have stuck with this story. Thank you _so_ much for your support! I really am so glad that people like this story. It has its issues and I'm not very consistent with updates but I _did_ put a lot of thought into the story and it makes lil ole' me so pleased to see people interacting with the story. Seriously, I love that people are willing to give _actual_ advice and constructive criticism. It's so refreshing!

And, seriously, if you want to have a chat about _anything_ , related to the story or not, feel free to contact me via private messaging or through my tumblr (the link to which is on my profile).

With that all said, I'll leave you with this: don't forget to review, favorite, and follow (if you so please)! [SIGNED, SAM]

 _Disclaimer:_ One time, I made the Potters in the Sims. That's as close to creating _Harry Potter_ as I've ever gotten and ever will get.

 _P.S._ _What is it with me and long author's notes? If only I could write this much in my university annotated bibliographies._


	14. Chapter 13

James had rehearsed the exact words multiple times. "I haven't seen you since last year, Lily," he'd say and she'd roll her eyes at him, perhaps cross her arms over her chest and laugh. Lily had a habit of muffling her laughs, hiding her mouth behind a delicate hand as her eyes squinted with mirth. But, sometimes, the laughter came too quickly for her to stop it and she would burst into giggles. James had heard some people's laughs being compared to the chime of bells. Lily's wasn't like that. It was too soft, too warm to be compared to something that originates from metal.

Then, when she had stopped laughing or finished whatever sarcastic comment she chose to launch at him, he'd tell her the truth. "I kissed Pippa Parsimoni," he'd say. Or, no, perhaps: "Pippa Parsimoni kissed me." Rather, maybe he ought to say, "Pippa Parsimoni and I? Yeah, we snogged."

 _Oh, blast_ , thought James, sinking further into his seat. Remus eyed him bemusedly. "Everything alright?" he asked, one corner of his lips quirking up ever-so-slightly.

James frowned. " _No_ ," he said, "I'm screwed. Evans will have my head. I feel like a bloody prat. I don't know _what_ to think about She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. And, frankly, I could _really_ use a cig. Where in the _hell_ is Sirius?" The last question was said in a dramatic cry that had Peter wincing and Remus rolling his eyes.

"Off shagging Perpetua Ryan, I think," Peter offered, holed into the corner of the compartment farthest from James. "Said she was lonely since breaking up with her boyfriend."

This elicited a snort from Remus. "As if the two of them hadn't been shagging the whole time she was going out with that bloke," he said. "Honestly, I don't know what he sees in her. I mean, I couldn't care if she shags half the guys in the school ("I think she has," added James in a low voice) but she's just bloody rude. How can anyone find that attractive?"

"It's not her attitude that we find attractive," answered Sirius, closing the cabin door behind him as he entered, "it's her tits."

"Lovely," replied Remus. The priorly missing Marauder's mussed hair and a cherry pink lip stain across his cheek bone were evidence that he had, in fact, come from a rendezvous with the aforementioned blonde Hufflepuff. "Tell me," Remus went on, "How do you manage to be the school's greatest slag and yet only the birds get the blame?"

Sirius shrugged. "It's a skill."

"It's misogyny," Remus deadpanned.

"Alright, ladies," chimed in James, "can we put the claws away and focus on the issue at hand? Me, Pippa Parsimoni, an unfortunate snog at midnight?"

Sirius sunk into the seat beside James and tossed his feet into Peter's lap (Peter quickly pushed Sirius' muddy boots onto the empty cushion beside him with a derisive snort). "Listen, Cinderella," he began, "it's a snog, not a marriage proposal. And, I'll be honest, given your track record with Evans, I still don't think she'll give a damn."

Still brushing bits of mud from his trousers (it had been raining outside when the Hogwarts Express had departed and Sirius' boots were caked in grime), Peter said, "I have a brilliant idea: how about you just...don't tell her at all?"

Sirius smiled widely and pointed at Peter. "See, this is why we keep you around, Wormtail," he said, "for rare moments of genius like this one."

"I can't _not_ tell her," argued James, looking to Remus. "Right?"

He could only shrug in response. "I can't make your decisions for you, Prongs."

"Well, _I_ can," said Sirius, "and I say you act like nothing happened. You keep pining over Evans. She keeps denying her feelings for you. In four years, you two are married with a house, a cat, and a baby. And the world is just as it should be."

James knew as well as Remus knew as well as Peter knew as well as even Sirius knew that there was no scenario in which Sirius was capable of giving solid relationship advice. But, when the cabin door rattled open to reveal one very red looking Lily Evans, there was no question in James' mind that he would have to follow Sirius and Peter's advice. _For now_ , he told himself and was startled by how much it sounded like a lie.

"Oh," said Lily. "Hullo."

No one moved, at first, until Sirius pretended to take off an imaginary hat and bow dramatically. At that, Remus rolled his eyes and stood to meet Lily at the door while Peter offered a meek, "Hello." James didn't say a word. In fact, as soon as he registered her entrance, he turned pointedly to the window and gazed out at the rolling meadows that passed below them.

"Right, then," said Lily, her mouth contorting oddly as she straightened out her robes. "Nice to see you all, I suppose," she said before stepping outside of the compartment with Remus in tow. She quickly turned on her heel and started down the corridor, not waiting for Remus, whose long legs meant he didn't need to hurry to catch up to her. "I wasn't expecting Potter to be there," Lily confessed, though her gaze remained rooted forward.

Remus quirked an eyebrow. "You didn't think that James would be in the same cabin as Sirius, Peter, and myself?"

The redhead bit her lip, but recovered quickly and replied, "Well, one never knows what Potter gets himself up to." Remus replied only with an amused hum. Lily flushed, hating seeing him so smug. "How was your break, anyway? And your Mum is well, I suppose?"

"As well as she can be," Remus replied, a little too quickly, as always. Lily nodded sagely. "Did you get a lot of letters this break?" he said, then followed up, "I got less from James than usual. Perhaps he was preoccupied...or?"

"Oh, sod off," Lily bit, though there was a laugh in her voice. "Yes, yes, if you must know, James and I wrote plenty over the break."

Their conversation paused as Remus told off a group of third years lighting fire to their candy wrappers. Then, "And did you hear from that Ravenclaw bloke? What was it...Ashton?"

Lily fiddled with the prefect badge pinned to her robes. "Not much," she confessed, rubbing her thumb over the badge's Gryffindor house crest. "We exchanged gifts, but other than that, nothing. I mean, it's not like we planned to write or anything. He was probably busy and I was doing...other things, too." Lily thought back to all the nights she spent writing letters to James. Or worse, all of the nights she spent doing nothing but _waiting_ for letters from James. Maybe she was going a little bit mad.

"Shame," Remus said, "but isn't that him over there?"

Sure enough, Remus was correct. Huddled into a seating section with three other Ravenclaws in his year was Ashton Kipling, all perfect smiles and tousled brown hair. He looked tired, was Lily's immediate thought, but she was also caught off guard by seeing him surrounded by so many people. In all the time that she had known him, Lily didn't think that she could recall any other moment that she had seen him with so many people at once. "Lily," he called, arm stretched out in a wave. His friends hooted and hollered as he clambered out from amongst them to greet Lily. His ears flushed. "Hey, long time no see," he said when they were only a few feet apart. Then, catching himself, he looked over to grin at Remus. "Hey, Remus, right? Friends with Potter?"

"Yes, I go by both," replied Remus, "although most people just call me Friend of Potter."

Lily let out a laugh. And Ashton did, too, after a pause. "Sorry," he said, "it's just that I hardly ever see you or any of your friends without Potter."

"I was just explaining that to Lily," Remus replied, his eyes twinkling when they met the redhead's. "I'll go check the rest of this car while you two chat."

If Lily felt guilty about letting Remus patrol the rest of the car on his own, any sign of it disappeared as soon as she turned back to face Ashton. Often times, when she looked at him, she didn't know where to look first. She settled first on each curl of mousy brown hair. He had the kind of hair that begged to be touched or combed through - or _tugged_ , she thought with a blush. His eyes were different, now, then they had been at the beginning of the year. More sunken, she noted, but still they held within them the same clever glint. And, of course, there were his lips. Lips that spread easily into a secretive grin or a blinding smile. Lips that Lily imagined, secretly, would feel nice against her own. But, that was…

"Lily?" Ashton's voice was soft, laced with concern. He'd rested his hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay? You looked like you were drifting off," he said, peering into her eyes, searching. Lily blinked and looked away. She was afraid that if he kept searching, he'd discover what had actually made her dazed.

She broke into a grin. "I'm fine, completely, one hundred percent," she said quickly. "Just tired. You know how it is the day before going to Hogwarts. Can never get any sleep!"

He paused, his lips quirked into an almost grin, as if he was just barely aware of what had Lily so flustered. Then, his grin spread into a smile and he laughed softly. "I know what you mean," he conceded, "that feeling never does go away. It's never like the first time, but it's still something magical."

They settled into silence, which Lily found only more dangerous. She searched desperately for some idle bit of chat to fill the void. "Anyway," she announced finally, "how was your break?"

Ashton shrugged. "Same old, same old," he began, then conceded, "well, perhaps not. My brother came home. You remember how I told you that he ran away? Well, he come home on Christmas Eve. Drunk as can be, of course, but apologetic. My parents have forgiven him and I'm...starting to. I just want him to be better. Anyway, sorry to drop that on you, all of a sudden. Just thought you might like to know."

The way he was looking at her Lily knew that there was more to be said. Specifically, more for _her_ to say. She was struck by the horror of the moment, cornered by the realization that she had _forgotten_. How had she forgotten? Of course, the truth always comes out. Of course, Ashton would eventually figure out that there was more than just an acquaintanceship between her and Asher. It was just a matter of time. And yet, Lily had forgotten. She'd convinced herself that there was nothing to worry about.

"Ashton, I have to…"

Remus was beside her, sighing. "Lily, I'm going to need your help," he said, gesturing exasperatedly towards the seats at the front of the car. "There's some shithead fourth years who think they're too good for the rules." Lily wanted to snap back that this was not the time. She refrained, relieved to have an escape from the impending conversation. And, she realized, glancing in the direction of the fourth years, they _did_ seem to be up to no good.

"I'll have to get back to you," she said to Ashton, who smiled sadly and nodded. She felt his gaze on her back as she followed Remus to the front of the car. Once they had finished dealing with the fourth years, Lily glanced back in the direction of Ashton and his friends. He had gone. And Lily still wasn't quite sure what to say when she did see him again.

/ / /

Lily had rehearsed what she would say multiple times. "I never meant to keep it from you," she would begin. No, she thought, maybe it would be better to start: "I'm sorry, Ashton." But, was that too presumptuous? Too guilty? She thought that she ought to settle on, "The person I was then is not the same as the person I am now."

Then, sickened, she realized the person she was then was not so different from her present self. Still a selfish, childish liar in the end. Lily did not pride herself on self-deprecation. But, ironically, the fact that she was a liar was precisely the truth. She couldn't quite remember the last time she'd been entirely without secrets. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd been without the _desire_ to keep secrets. Now, she reeked of them like Sirius did of cigarettes.

Lily's first secret was Asher Kipling. It wasn't so much a secret, anymore. There were plenty of people around Hogwarts that knew. All of Lily's friends knew. And if they didn't know all of it, they knew what mattered. Which was that Lily had given up her virginity to a boy she barely knew on the Hogwarts Express. It was not the location of the act or the fact of the loose relationship she had with her partner that left her feeling vile. No, it was the fact that it had been Asher Kipling. And it was the fact that she had, even if it was only in a vague, childish way, been in love with him.

Asher Kipling was not a nice person. He was best friends with Keaton Ledbury, ex-boyfriend of Dorcas, for one. That was how the two had met in the first place. Dorcas had introduced them, not thinking much of it. After all, who would ever imagine that Lily Evans would see anything in Asher Kipling?

Lily operated on a moral high ground that most people, least of all Asher Kipling, could not even aspire to. It was a world, population one, in which only Lily made the cut. But, the truth of the matter was that it was lonely, living like that. Perhaps Lily had gotten tired and let her guard down and that was how Asher had slipped into her world. Or perhaps a secret part of her had let him in through the back door.

It didn't matter.

Unknowingly, foolishly, suddenly, she became caught up in Asher Kipling's world. Lily lost herself in the way he would trail a finger across her hand as they passed in the hallway. Everytime he pinned her against a wall in a hidden corridor, keeping her hanging on heavy breaths, only to leave without even a whisper of a kiss, she fell harder. And by the time she stumbled into his empty cabin on the Hogwarts Express that fateful summer day, she didn't need to think before peeling off her robes and latching onto him. Like he was fresh air after she had been suffocating.

Asher Kipling was like that to her.

In fact, it wasn't until she had gotten home that evening that she realized her world was back to a population of one. He had snuck out as easily as he'd come in. When Lily had stripped from her clothes and stared at herself in the mirror that night, there had been nothing in the curve of her breast or the line of her hips to suggest that anything was different about her or her life. But, she felt it, and she knew. The mark was on her heart. Asher Kipling was a visitor, not a permanent resident. And she couldn't even bring herself to cry.

Just like how there had been nothing about her body to indicate a change in her, there were no words in her mind that Lily knew of to explain these things to Ashton Kipling. How could she explain to Ashton what she couldn't even express properly to her friends? Lily didn't suppose that he would be able to understand. Hell, that wasn't even the first of her problems. He would have to forgive her for not mentioning their relationship - if that was even the right word - earlier. "Hey, Ashton. Sorry I didn't mention that I've _boned_ you brother," she thought exasperatedly, "oh, yeah, and sorry I didn't mention that he royally fucked over my mental state."

It felt like a joke. Or like retribution for all of the times she had looked down upon Mary or Perpetua, or even Marlene, for their sexual exploits. Who was she to judge? She was the worst of the bunch. Lily had given herself to someone because she was lonely. She had given herself to someone that stood exactly opposite to her morals. She had given herself to someone because she was desperate to feel loved in a world that seemed increasingly to hate her.

The state of her situation left her with a nasty case of insomnia. So, she sat awake in the belly of the common room, buried under a blanket with one of her textbooks propped up on her knee. She couldn't remember any of what she'd read in the last chapter or two, but at least she could pretend to strive for productivity even as it eluded her. It had been hard to get work done since she'd returned to Hogwarts. Either her mind was elsewhere, drawing her away from concentration, or she was being pulled into another task by a professor or a fellow prefect.

The second half of the school year was always the busiest, she found. But, things were getting out of hand this year. If she didn't find her wits soon, then she'd begin to fall behind on her work. Lily flipped back to the beginning of the chapter and re-started. " _The Goblin Revolt of 1714 is often misconstrued as an event brought about by…_ " she read to herself, feeling her eyes drifting shut. Lily yawned, shifting in her seat, bringing the blanket closer to her chin. The fatigue was just starting to get to her and she didn't think that taking a nap in the common room seemed like such a bad idea.

At half past midnight, the portrait door swung open to admit a single, stumbling student. Lily awoke to the sound of heavy steps that seemed to step precisely on every squeaky floorboard. She winced, stretching, her Charms book falling from her lap and onto the floor before her. When Lily opened her eyes, she glimpsed a shadow entering the common room, too tall to be anyone in fourth year or below.

"You've broken curfew," she called groggily to the figure, sitting up and patting her hair down. "I'll give you just a warning this time, but don't let it-"

" _Evans_ ," the voice said, exasperated. " _Evans, Evans, Evans_."

Lily shook her head as if to clear the sleep from her eyes and squinted into the shadows. " _Potter_?" she said incredulously. "Are you _drunk_?"

It seemed oddly fitting that these were the first words she exchanged, properly, with James Potter after returning from break. It had been just barely a week since they arrived back. They sat in the same places that they usually did and went about life just as they normally did. Except they didn't speak, not even once.

Any other year, under any other circumstances, this would be normal. If anything, it would be bliss as far as Lily was concerned. But, this year had not been like every other year. And her relationship with James, too, was unlike it had been in other years. This, too, had been a subject of stress for her in the past week. She was even less sure of who James Potter was _exactly_ than she had ever been before.

It had been easier before. Then, he was a bullying toerag. Or simply a buffoon, on better days. In the fall, he had been a nuisance and he had been an ally and he had been something akin to a friendly acquaintance. Now, she _wanted_ to call him a friend. She wanted to, but she didn't dare. She felt even less inclined to do so after he had ignored her for the entire week.

Non-interaction would have been excusable. Their friend groups may overlap, but they were not entirely interlocked. And, after all, they were busy people. James was Quidditch Captain, Lily was a Prefect. They didn't even share every class together.

But, this was beyond a lack of interaction. James had gone out of his way to avoid her. He had turned the other way when facing her in the corridor. He had shown up late to class - _twice_ \- so as to avoid conversation with her before it began. They hadn't shared a single meal together since the start of term. Lily was past being suspicious; she was angry. She wanted answers. If he was angry with her, then she'd rather he be direct with it.

Mostly, she just didn't want to be ignored.

As such, Lily could not see the comedy in their meeting. The night's resemblance to another night, months before, was also lost on her. She saw only her hurt and the hours spent writing to him and her anger. She saw only the ashes of the olive branch they'd both spent the past months reaching for. So, she continued, "We start classes _tomorrow_ , Potter, what were you _thinking_?" He blinked at her. "Oh, right, I'm sure you _weren't_ thinking!"

James frowned, stepping out of the shadows. The dying firelight flickered across his face, illuminating his stubbled jaw and far away eyes and frowning lips. "You always do that. I'm not an idiot, Evans. Why're ya always tryin' to make me feel like one?"

The redhead let out an exasperated sigh, turning her back on him. She brought her hands to her face, rubbed vigorously, and let her fingers drag through her red locks. It was late and Lily was confused. She thought of the James she'd come to know over break and tried to reconcile him with the James in front of her. His letters had been touched with humor but bathed in vulnerability. In them, he treated her as a confidant. A friend, even. Why did the reality, standing in front of her, disappoint her?

"I kissed Pippa Parisomini," James said to Lily's back.

She didn't turn around. "What?"

James sunk into an armchair. He rubbed his temples. "I suppose _she_ kissed _me_ first. It was New Year's...you know," he said, voice low. Lily turned to stare into the fire. She didn't think she could look at him, not when she had been so - _stupidly_ , she now realized - close to accepting him as a friend.

"She killed her friends," she whispered. "How could you kiss her?"

He shook his head. "No, no, Evans, listen. She didn't _do_ that. She _wouldn't_...I know…"

"You know what? You know her?" Lily spat. "You snogged her, Potter. How much could you _possibly_ know!"

"We never saw her bullying them," he responded quietly.

The redhead threw her hands into the air. "We didn't have to!" she nearly exclaimed. "Emma was _so_ terrified of her. And you can just forget about that so easily...I don't understand...Is it because...because she's willing to give it up for you?"

James stood quickly, the alcohol in his veins exchanged for vitriol.

Lily watched him, feeling hot, and pressed her lips into a tight line. She felt the betrayal ripping through her like a knife, leaving her nauseous and struggling for air. It wasn't because it was James, she reminded herself, that it hurt so bad. It was because it was _also_ James. Even when other people alluded her, there was one thing that Lily could depend on when it came to James: she knew who he was and who he wasn't. So, it felt like bitter retribution that just when she had begun to reconsider her opinion of him, he had done this to her.

She was so _sick_ of being let down. It was exhausting, putting so much faith into people, just to be let down. She didn't want to be nice or keep her mouth shut anymore. This time, Lily wanted to hurt him, to cut deep. He had been so _insensitive_ , but she wanted him to _feel_ this pain. She didn't hesitate: "If it's not for her body, then is it a... _Pureblood_ thing? A good, Pureblood girl like Pippa could never be so terrible, huh? She couldn't have played any part in that disgusting act. So, why would it be wrong to kiss her? Is that it, _Potter_?"

His expression was blank. His glasses were askew, his hair more disheveled than usual, and his hazel eyes were empty. James stared right through her. For a long time, neither spoke. Lily felt bare under his stare. She wanted to look away. She didn't. When at last he spoke, he poured into the words all of the venom he could manage. And with his next two words, Lily knew it didn't matter how she saw James Potter. They were as good as dead to each other, anyway.

" _Fuck you_."

/ / /

The shift was felt like the changing of the tides, where their respective friend groups were concerned. But, these tides never changed back. The Gryffindor sixth years were caught in a constant high tide, waiting for the tension to cause a crack in the fabric of the group. It would have been easier if things had just split, cleanly. Instead, for a long time, their friends were caught in suspension, floating precariously between Lily and James, always stepping lightly. Even when the two friend groups did drift apart, they remained in stasis.

Marlene was the first to tire of tip-toeing. She had always been the type to stomp through life. A week into the silence, she stood from the table and did not return. They saw her around the castle, managing the circulation of _The Daily Rebel_ or walking hand-in-hand with Jonah Nix. But, she no longer joined them at meal times. If she showed up at all, she sat with her friends at the Hufflepuff table. In that way, Marlene escaped from the riptide.

It took longer for Mary to cut ties. She had spent the better half of the first week of silence trying to coax information out of Lily, and when she failed, she had tried with James. He had only sent her a single withering glance. When Mary started seeing a seventh year Ravenclaw named Evelyn, her appearances became farther and fewer in between. Then, on an otherwise average day, Lily had snapped, "Maybe if you spent less time snogging and more time actually reading your textbooks, you wouldn't have to worry about your failing marks." Mary fell out of suspension.

"You know what, Lily?" she had replied. "You're really a miserable bitch."

They hadn't spoken since.

Of all of Lily's friends, she had only Dorcas left. And Remus, she considered cautiously. After Marlene's abandonment and Mary's confession, she considered everyone suspiciously. Who else had pretended to be her friend? Who else secretly regarded her with contempt? Lily was afraid that she would soon find out.

She descended the stairs slowly, savoring the click of her shoes against the steps and the bite of cold where her fingertips touched the marble bannister. Around her, people pounded down the steps, engaging in vibrant conversation: all smiles and loud laughs and inside jokes. Most days, she didn't let herself think that she missed her friends. But, today, she did. She frowned sadly after her peers, thinking that it would be easier if she were just one of them and not Lily Evans.

Adjusting her bag on her shoulder, Lily hopped down the last step and turned down an adjacent corridor, towards the library. A third year that she had tutored before waved at her and Lily managed a smile back. She had to remember that there was a world outside of her people. There was an entire population outside of Mary, Marlene, and the Marauders. There was Dorcas, for one, Lily was reminded. The kinky-haired witch stood just left of the library doors, leaning against the wall behind her as she flipped through one of the books Lily had sent her for Christmas.

"Lily," Dorcas said by way of greeting when Lily approached. "You're late."

The redhead snorted. "By two minutes," she said, "and it didn't look like you were missing me, anyway. How is our protagonist Fiona doing with the dashing pirate, Eduardo?"

"Things are going swimmingly for them," Dorcas answered, "he just pulled out his _huge_ …"

" _Dorcas!_ "

"Revolver," Dorcas finished, grinning. Lily linked her arm with Dorcas and pulled her into the library. They were lucky. The library was usually filled to the brim with seventh years preparing for their NEWTs. But, on this day, there was a free table at the back of the library. They made for it, but Lily pulled Dorcas to a stop as the Marauders saddled up to the desk and sat down, spreading their things across the table's previously unclaimed surface. Dorcas swore. "They had to pick _today_ to start studying," she grumbled and began to turn around.

Lily heard a whisper of her name and looked up, half-expecting James to be grinning at her from the stolen table. She didn't know why she still expected these kinds of things. Usually, she was able to catch herself right before the thought formed and save herself the heartache. But, today, it seemed would be another one of those days where she wished nothing had changed. The voice belonged, in actuality, to one of the other people that she really had not had the energy to think about.

Ashton.

He smiled kindly up at her from a table to her right. "Come sit here," he said. Lily didn't think she had a choice, so she took his offer, and dragged Dorcas with her to sit at his table. The redhead found herself oddly plussed at Ashton's nonchalance, the ease in which he could offer a seat at his table. He should be angry, she thought, he knows that I lied. Indeed, these days - no, this year - Lily found herself more prone to suspicion than acceptance. "I haven't seen you in ages," he greeted her, eyes ever-twinkling, and extended a hand to Dorcas, as well. She took it with thinly-veiled reluctance. "Ashton Kipling,"

"Dorcas Meadowes," she replied, in turn.

"You're an excellent Chaser," Ashton said conversationally.

Dorcas set her things on the table with a loud _thunk_. "Thanks, I know," she replied. With that, she buried her head in her books and ended the conversation abruptly, but neatly. Ashton looked helplessly at Lily who managed a grin, shrugging. She had never known Dorcas to bother with small talk.

Lily, too, took out her things. She had three essays to complete and, ideally, all would be finished before she left the library today. Or so she had hoped. But, that plan had been decided upon before she'd been left with no choice but to sit at Ashton's table. She was finding it particularly hard to ignore the tendrils of curly hair that tickled the table whenever Ashton got super close to his parchment while writing. It was even harder to ignore the way he kept throwing her glances, as if she wouldn't notice. Of course, she noticed these things. Because when it came to Kipling boys, Lily simply could not help but stare. In one word, they were _magnetic_.

At last, an hour passed in agony. Ashton began to shake his leg, whether from boredom or habit or the need to relieve himself, Lily was not sure. But, it was making it even harder to stop stealing glances at him.

By the second hour, Dorcas had finished her Charms essay, shut the book with a snap, and taken a break to read her romance novel. She nudged Lily, who had only barely made it three quarters of the way through her Charms essay, and gave her a significant look. Lily flushed and turned back to her essay, resolving to do nothing but _focus_. _Focus, Lily. Don't think about anything but Charms. Charms, Charms, Charms. Flitwick, Flitwick, Flitwick. Definitely do not think about Ashton. Or that thing you definitely need to tell him. Shit._

Lily groaned.

"Do you want to take a break and go walk a lap?" offered Ashton. She noted the hopefulness in his voice. Was this a suggestion or an offer, she wondered. Then, realizing she hadn't answered, she replied:

"I suppose that might be a good idea."

Ashton shifted in his seat. "Do you mind if...well, is it okay if I join you?"

"Uh...sure," she said quickly, turning to hide her flush. She knew what this meant. They had not seen each other, except in passing, for nearly two weeks. He had been strangely absent, for one, and secondly, Lily had done her best to avoid him where possible. The dread of having to explain herself had not yet dissipated. They walked out of the library quickly, with Lily picking up a ridiculous pace so that she could stay several steps ahead of him. He caught up, anyway, huffing, and laughed.

"Do you normally walk this fast?" he asked.

Between uneven breaths, she replied, "Oh, of course. I can't stand slow walkers."

"Ah," said Ashton, keeping pace but not without great effort. Lily felt her legs tiring but willed herself on. They rounded the corner into an empty corridor. "Hey, Lily, can we stop to talk for a second?"

"Talk about what?"

She paused, noticing the halt of his steps behind her. When she turned around, he stared seriously back at her, mouth twisted into a rare frown. "You _know_ what," he replied, closing the meter gap between them. "I just want...to hear what you have to say. I heard what I needed to hear from Asher," Lily winced at the mention of Ashton's brother. "But, I want to know what happened from _you_."

"I'm sure he told you all there is to know," Lily replied, coming off coarser than intended.

Ashton laughed. "Believe me, if it's coming from _my_ brother, I'm sure he did exactly the opposite of that," he said. That did nothing to calm Lily's nerves. After all, if Asher did not say everything, then what had he left out? And what impression did the information he _did_ provide give Ashton? Lily tensed, a doe that just met the eyes of her hunter. "Please, Lily."

"I don't even know where to begin," she confessed, leaning against one of the corridor walls.

He said simply, "Start where it hurts the least."

/ / /

"Bad news from home?" asked Remus as they set their things down atop the table.

James sat with his back to the redhead that had just entered the library. He focused on Remus and nodded, grimacing. "Mum is ill. The doctor says it's because she's under too much stress. If she doesn't take a break, then it might lead to something more serious."

"And knowing Mrs. Potter," chimed in Sirius, "it won't be easy to keep her from putting herself under stress."

Peter frowned. "Can't they lock her up somewhere to keep her from working?"

The boys stared at Peter. "They're not going to _lock up_ Prongs' mother, for Christ's sake, Wormtail," replied Sirius, shaking his head. "Use your head for more than a hair rack for once, please."

"Well, they're not going to lock her up to keep her from stressing, at least," James amended grimly. "They're putting a hell of a lot of time into trying to lock her up for something else, though." All of her mother's colleagues were at a loss as to why the investigation dragged on. Some said incompetency, others cried conspiracy. The Potters just wanted it all to come to an end, regardless.

And James hoped, privately, that it would come to an end without the missing file leading back to his mother. His nights were often spent half-awake, heart pounding with the dread of knowing that if his mother went down, he may have contributed to her downfall. The thought evaded him, mostly, in past months. But, now, it was all James could do to dwell on the severity of what he had done. He had _stolen_ from the _Ministry_. People were put in prison for crimes of less severity than his. James sucked in a breath, reaching into his pocket to fiddle with the snitch he kept there. Several hours passed in this way. James' eyes glazed over his textbooks. It all seemed very irrelevant when your mother was being investigated for corruption that she had dedicated her entire life to fighting.

He hadn't had the stomach for classes or homework, lately. Letters came frequently from home, and James sent replies back just as frequently. He remembered days in terms of correspondences with his parents. There were other things that snagged his attention, then and again, too. But, those things, recently, seemed trivial.

James thought that his friends must have been exhausted by him and his fits of emotion and his anxious ramblings and his constant talk of the Ministry. But, if they were, they did not let him know. Sirius must have listened to James curse himself out for what he'd done a dozen times or more, but he never changed the subject. "We'll figure this out," he said, time and time again, in some iteration. Sometimes, those iterations were just an arm slung over James' shoulder or a comforting pat on the back. James realized he was rather lucky, all things considered.

"Parents of teenagers convicted in murder and disappearance of two Hogwarts students beg for mercy following their daughters' trial," read Remus in a low voice, glancing up to meet James' gaze. He flipped the newspaper around to show James. In a wide picture at the top, four people sobbed into the camera, mouths opening and closing as they plead. Sirius snatched the paper away, looked at it appraisingly, then threw it onto the table with a _harumph_.

He shook his head shortly. "Some people lack a sense of shame," he declared, perhaps too loud, as Madame Pince sent the four boys a withering glare. He continued, fractionally quieter, "I mean, their daughters _killed_ people. Where was their mercy?"

Remus shrugged. "At the end of the day, they're still parents, Sirius," he said. "Right and wrong, good and bad, judgement becomes fuzzy when it comes to parents and their children."

"I wouldn't know," Sirius replied derisively.

The group fell into silence. Peter chewed at his nails and James thumbed through his Transfiguration textbook. Then, perhaps foolishly, James began, "Is there any...I don't know... _reason_ that the two of you have been at each other's throats as of late? Lover's quarrel or….?"

"Oh, you're one to talk," bit back Sirius. "Moony and I have no problem...Except for the problem _I_ have with his moral high ground."

"Grow up," Remus mumbled, "a bit of moral clarity would do you some good."

Sirius narrowed his eyes and turned towards James. "See what I mean," he said, gesturing emphatically at Remus. James realized that he had opened a can of worms. "He's always bringing up some philosophical bullshit. It's bored, Moony, the whole I'm-smarter-than-you spiel."

With that, Remus rose from his seat, gathering his things quickly, and left. Peter stared helplessly after him, looking between James and Sirius as if to gauge whether either of them would stop Remus. When neither made to move, Peter settled back into his seat, frowning. James opened his mouth as if to say something, but Sirius cut him off:

" _Don't start_."

/ / /

"...so that's why I kept it a secret, I suppose. I was ashamed. And I didn't want you to see me differently. I wanted you to see me just as Lily...without all of the other baggage. I know that was unfair of me. You had a right to know, but…" Lily looked up at Ashton, pausing, and then continued, "I hope you'll forgive me."

"Forgive you?"

Lily flinched. She had heard this version of events play out a thousand times in her head. He would shake his head at her, lips curled in disgust, and say, "You are not worthy of forgiveness. You are a liar, an attention-seeker, and dirty as they come."

Instead, he said, "Lily, you would have to have done something wrong."

"I kept things from you," she supplied, perhaps too willingly.

He frowned. "It was yours to keep," he replied. "I don't own your memories or your feelings. And you don't owe me your peace of mind. You don't owe me anything, really." When he reached for her hands, Lily pulled back, then, relenting, gave them to him. He held them gently, as if she would break, and rubbed his thumbs over the back of her hands. "You shouldn't feel like you owe people your heart. It's yours to give, Lily Evans."

Lily felt tears pricking her eyes. She shook her head, managing a small smile. "You don't owe me your kindness, either," she said, "and you don't owe me the benefit of the doubt. I really...I don't want you to feel guilty for being mad at me."

"I'm not mad," he promised, moving closer. "Can I be honest, though?"

The redhead blinked, a tear rolling down her cheek. She feared what he might say, but still, she nodded and met his ever-twinkling blue eyes.

"When I said you own your own heart, I forgot to add an important detail," he said, growing quiet, almost conspiratorial. "The thing is, Lily Evans," he continued, "you own my heart, as well."

She blinked up at him. "I…what?"

"I know the timing is all wrong," he began quickly, "and I know that there are plenty of other blokes that you'd probably rather be with. But, I like you, a lot. And if these past few months are any indicator, then I only see the way I feel about you growing. I don't need you to answer now. Or ever. I mean, really, this is all up to you. I will be waiting, either way. So…"

One of the things Lily admired most about her father was his pragmatism. He had always seemed to know exactly what to do, and often more importantly, what to say. Lily had always thought that she hadn't inherited this quality of his. But, staring into Ashton Kipling's eyes, she realized that perhaps this pragmatic gene was simply recessive, hidden behind the greater theme of indecisiveness in Lily's life. Because, at that moment, she knew exactly what to say, and do, for that matter. "Can I kiss you?"

And they did.

/ / /

The first time that Remus awoke in a puddle of his own blood, he had been five. It was not the last time, either. In fact, it was the beginning of a tragic fate that would span the length of the next eleven years (and beyond). This was the twelfth year of Remus' lycanthropy. For that was the way in which he measured his life. In years before, years total, and years during. His 'furry little problem' as James had once coined it, was the starring role in the saga of his life. A constant reminder that what he had was gone, what he could have had was gone, and what remained was unsure, a question mark in both the abstract sense and the literal. Remus glared down at the career form he'd filled out with McGonagall. Next to the words, _Future Career Goals_ , Remus had drawn a question mark.

He supposed that a more fitting answer would have been: _Stay Alive_. He didn't think that McGonagall would appreciate that answer, however, any more than she had appreciated the question mark.

Remus tucked the piece of paper back into his chest before reaching up to tighten his tie and smooth out his collar. He felt particularly drained on this day, just a day before the full moon. It took everything in his power to remain upright and coherent. Most of the time, all he wanted was to sleep in the days preceding his transformation. This was a byproduct of both the lycanthropy and the depression induced _by_ the lycanthropy. Doctors told him that things would get easier; they were wrong, of course, it only got harder. Exponentially.

To be fair, the past year had seen a dramatic improvement in the quality of his transformations. They remained painful, slow, and long. But, since his friends had (foolishly, he might add) undergone the process of becoming animagi, his transformations were not as lonely as they had once been. Where he had once suffered alone, Remus now had his friends to help him through the toughest parts. Most nights he could even keep a superficial grip on his wits.

"I'm not saying that we should go into the Forbidden Forest this time around," said Sirius, slinging an arm around Remus. "But, I _am_ saying that we should do exactly that."

The two had made up since their argument in the library. Made-up in the lightest of senses, though, as neither had properly apologized. And neither planned on it, either. "You always say that," called James from across the room, amidst pouring over another letter from his father, "but then you complain about all of the bruises and scratches on your beautiful face the next day."

"Prongsie," Sirius squealed, "you think I'm _beautiful_?"

Remus rolled his eyes, pulling away from Sirius. "We're not _expressly_ allowed to go into the Forbidden Forest, I'll remind you," he said, "and I can't _expressly_ guarantee that I'll be able to make it out safely if I go in like that."

"And I'll remind you that none of that has stopped us before," replied Sirius. "Come on, you guys are no _fun_ anymore. All you three do is _brood_ and _whine_ and bum cigarettes off of me." This last part was aimed almost entirely at James, who swore that he'd pay him back for them, if he insisted. Remus thought to tell them that they ought to both quit smoking entirely. But, he didn't think that they were ready for that discussion.

The three other Marauders decided to ignore Sirius entirely. "Any news on your mother?" Peter asked, peering over James' shoulder. The taller boy shrugged. He'd read the letter several times already, but he thought to read it once more, just in case he missed anything. The boys noticed that this had become somewhat of a habit for James.

"I think," said Sirius, "that our wee little Potter is becoming a wee little obsessed."

"It's his mother," Remus said plainly.

Scowling, Sirius shot back, "I _know_ that." He let out a thin breath of air. "My point is, while I know you want to look out for your mum, she's an adult. And she has your dad. You need to live your life, too, mate. As they say, if you're not living, you're dying."

"Gee, that's bright," remarked Peter. Sirius made a gesture that said, _That's life_. None of the boys thought that Sirius was wrong, on this front. James was prone towards the obsessive in everything he did. From falling in love to Quidditch to protecting his family, James went all in or none. It was both a charm and a flaw, and increasingly, it was beginning to read like the latter. "I think what Prongs needs is something new. Something to take up at least some of his attention."

"Something like a shag," Sirius offered.

Remus stood up, having tied the laces of his oxfords. "Speaking of," he began, feeling as though he was playing with fire, but going on anyway, "I heard that Lily started dating that Ashton Kipling bloke."

Between Remus, Sirius, and Peter, they all knew that Lily Evans had been an off-limits topic for the better part of the last month. James stared pointedly down at the letter now. Sirius hummed a little tune, pretending to fasten the laces of his own boots. "And who'd you hear that from?" Peter asked, at last.

"Lily," he answered at once. James stiffened. "I s'pose it was only a matter of time. They had been seeing each other since last year, no? Lily seems to like him plenty, anyway, which is saying something."

Sirius snorted. "Fair," he said, "since Lily doesn't like anything except herself."

James did not bother to retort this claim, as he typically would. As for Remus, he shrugged. "We all have our flaws," he conceded, "and I wouldn't be pointing fingers when it comes to narcissism, Padfoot."

"Well, we're all a bit narcissistic, no?" Sirius replied in turn, a lazy grin spreading across his lips. "But, damn, does it look good on me."

Having finished looking over his letter, James folded the parchment and stuffed it into his satchel before slinging the bag over his shoulder and making for the door. "I'm heading to breakfast first," he said by way of farewell. The remaining three promised to meet him down there. When the door had closed behind him, Sirius slumped back onto his bed with a groan.

"Do they _have_ to be so stubborn?"

Remus and Peter laughed. "They wouldn't be Lily and James if they weren't."

/ / /

In every iteration of how Marlene expected her life to pan out, she saw herself dying. Only in one, did she die of old age. Only in one, was she afforded that sweet escape from the plan she knew was laid out before her.

Marlene didn't think that she was destined for greatness. Greatness was reserved for older sisters, of which Marlene had one, and Greta was already forging her way towards that goal. No, Marlene didn't need to be great. She needed only to be of help. If that meant standing aside and helping her sister spread the word about those actually achieving greatness, then that was what Marlene was prepared to do. It was what Marlene had _been_ doing. That Greta had entrusted Marlene with the task of getting _The Daily Rebel_ into as many hands as possible within Hogwarts meant that Greta thought that this was a task worth undertaking. Greta did not often ask things of Marlene, after all.

Which was why it had been so odd when no news had come from Greta. She had forgotten, or been unable, to send the past two weeks' edition of _The Daily Rebel_ , as well. If Marlene had learned anything over the time she spent helping her sister with the newspaper during the holiday, it was that this was not a project Greta would willingly put to the side. She had worked herself into exhaustion every day in order to get the newspaper out on time.

In short, Marlene had been frantic. Frantic enough to cancel plans with her boyfriend, one Quidditch God Jonah Nix, to write to every known contact of Greta's. Those that responded admitted that they hadn't heard from her, either. Some warned her not to ask too many people. That kind of postal volume drew suspicion. Days passed without news, even from her parents, and Marlene became beside herself with worry. Jonah assured her that her sister was probably just busy between kisses on her neck. Marlene pushed him away, "This is not the time."

"When _is_ it the time with you, lately?" he had said, ruffled, before storming out.

The other half of the equation was that in no world in which Marlene existed did she see her sister not existing. Greta McKinnon was nothing if not constant. At Hogwarts, she had been the kind of commandeering force that did not need to be asked to be Head Girl. When Greta McKinnon boarded the Hogwarts Express with the Head Girl badge pinned to her robes, there was not a person in the school that doubted her right to the position. This domineering force was the very same that Marlene had spent her entire life next to. It did not surprise her that a world where here sister was gone did not seem to add up. After all, as far as Marlene was concerned, the world belonged to Greta. Why shouldn't she exist in all iterations of it?

When news finally came, it was delivered by Lily Evans. "I was in the Owlery," she explained, an envelope held in her outstretched hand, "I think the owl that was meant to deliver it to you had to travel a long distance. It barely made it into the Owlery before collapsing. Anyway, it's addressed to you."

Marlene took the letter gingerly from Lily's hand. She didn't wait for Lily to retreat into the bathroom to tear the letter open. It was from her sister; Marlene knew from the handwriting - large and written too quickly.

 _Marlene,_

 _I don't know if this letter will reach you. I've never sent an owl from this far before, but I figured that you would be wondering where the missing editions of_ The Daily Rebel _are. I cannot disclose my location at this time or for the foreseeable future, but know that I will continue to send copies of the newspaper as soon as I am able to establish reliable means of post. It is absolutely vital that you continue to distribute copies of_ The Daily Rebel _to your classmates._

 _To save time, I will keep this short. Mom and Dad are fine. If you have contacted them at our address, then know that your letter was likely intercepted. We have not been at the house for nearly three weeks. A close friend - Kingsley, I imagine you remember him - informed me that there was good reason to suspect that our house would be attacked at an unspecified time two weeks ago. Since then, I can confirm that our house was visited by four Death Eaters with the instructions to kill any person found on the lot. We were lucky to have had the foresight to trust Kingsley and evacuate while we had the chance._

 _Let me be very clear. Do not go home. Do not try to retrieve anything from the house. Do not leave the premises of Hogwarts, if you can manage it. Attached you will find a letter to Professor Dumbledore. Deliver it as soon as possible. I know you must have questions, but I cannot presently (or for the foreseeable future) provide an address for you to contact me at. I alone will be in contact with you, once a week, starting as soon as possible. Should any of my letters take longer than two weeks to arrive, report immediately to Dumbledore, he will be able to confirm if I am still alive._

 _Be strong, Marlene, and stay safe._

 _Greta_

Marlene re-read the letter once, twice, and then re-read just the last line. _Be strong, Marlene, and stay safe_. It read like, _I love you_. Greta had never been one for sentiment. Wiping a stray tear from her cheek, Marlene stood and pulled on her boots. Then, grabbing her jacket, she slung it over her shoulders and tucked the letter to Dumbledore inside of the pocket. Lily emerged from the bathroom, face a little raw where she had scrubbed it clean.

"Were you expecting it?" Lily said of the letter. Marlene paused, then nodded. She had been, whether she knew it or not. "Do you need me to do something?"

"Pretend you never saw that letter arrive," Marlene answered.

Lily blinked. "What letter?"

With that, Marlene left the room. Lily didn't know if they had ever stopped being friends, but she knew that they were definitely friends now. That's the thing about secrets, damning as thet amy be: they are the red string that ties all people together.

/ / /

"You can stop pretending to not care," said Sirius, exasperated. He had spent the better half of an hour in the library - of all places - watching James silently fume over a redhead sitting with her back to him three tables over. They had left the library, at last, and James had walked off with his hands stuck deep into the pockets of his robes, feigning nonchalance. "You're terrible at sending secretive glances, by the way," he added, "I'm surprised the two of them didn't notice your owl eyes on them the whole time."

James snorted. "It was not the _whole_ time."

The other Marauder rolled his eyes. "It shouldn't have been any time, Prongs, I thought we were Team We Hate Evans!" he exclaimed. "I don't know what's more boring: seeing you ogle her adoringly or seeing you pretend that you're _not_ ogling her."

They descended the steps into the entrance hall, Sirius trailing behind James by a few paces. The Evans argument was not new between them. It was as old as James' feelings for the redhead and yet neither could seem to take a definitive side on the issue. Some days James defended Lily, others he lambasted her. The same was true of Sirius, though he more typically took the side of being _anti_ -Lily. It was not that he disliked Lily Evans; it was that he disliked the idea of Lily Evans holding a firmer grip on James than even James himself. Sirius, for his part, thought that that was a fair opinion.

"There is no way in which I can hate her," James admitted, turning to face Sirius before they reached the Great Hall. "Not now, at least."

"What you need," Sirius said, clapping a hand on James' shoulder, "is to find someone _new_." With that, he grabbed James' other shoulder and turned him around, pushing him towards the banquet tables. Or, rather, pushing him towards _a_ banquet table. The Ravenclaw one, to be precise, the members of which watched the approaching Marauders with suspicion. The Ravenclaws knew who were their own. James Potter and Sirius Black did not fit even slightly into that category. Sirius pressed James, horrified, into a seat. "Treat him kindly, love," Sirius said to the blonde sitting beside James before grinning at him and leaving with a skip in his step.

James stood up too quickly; the dishes clattered behind him. He mumbled out apologies to the students galring in his direction. "Funny," came a voice by his side, "I was starting to think that I'd never see you again." He looked down and met an appraising gaze.

"Pippa," James laughed, "Funny seeing you here."

/ / /

"Why is James sitting at the Ravenclaw table?" asked Marlene between bites. " _Again_."

Lily knew better than to turn around. She didn't respond to the question, so Marlene repeated it, this time to Dorcas. Marlene had returned to their table in days prior. No one felt the need to mention her absence, much less inquire about why she'd returned. Marlene rejoining them was as natural as the orbit of the planets. Mary, she admitted to them, though, would not be so easy to convince. It seemed she had had more contact with the brunette Gryffindor than either Lily or Dorcas had.

In response to Marlene's question, Dorcas looked up and squinted at the Ravenclaw table. "Isn't that the girl whose friends killed her other friends?"

"Harsh, Dorcas," Marlene replied, "but, yes."

"I doubt he's shagging her," Dorcas said simply, grabbing a Yorkshire pudding from a platter that sat between them. Lily, despite herself, joined Marlene in giving Dorcas an inquisitive look. "Well, blondes aren't his type, you know."

Marlene snorted. "Prefers redheads, I hear."

" _Hardy-har_ ," Lily said, rolling her eyes.

"What was her name again, that blonde?" asked Marlene, scratching at her temple.

"Pippa Parsimoni," Lily answered, perhaps too quickly or too venomously. She let the crust of her toast fall back onto her plate as she stood, gathering her things. "And she wasn't friends with Emma Bridgewater and Priscilla Goodwin, to be clear."

/ / /

Lily couldn't be sure who she found more vile. Pippa Parsimoni, who Lily was certain had played an instrumental role in the death and disappearance of two people. Or James Potter, who despite knowing that fact, continued to befriend Pippa. He had _kissed_ her, even. Lily wiped the remaining drops of water from her face with a washcloth and took a minute to stare at her reflection. Her skin was still pink from washing. Lily frowned.

She didn't know why she cared what she thought of either of them. It wasn't really any of her business. Lily took her things from the bathroom and replaced them in her trunk. Before closing it, however, she pulled out an old journal she'd stuffed into the bottom of the trunk, beneath a woolen blanket her mother had gifted her. Her name was embossed across the cover of the journal in gold leaf. Settling onto her bed, Lily flipped through the pages of the journal. They were dedicated mostly to her musings.

 _James Potter is the most vile, detestable, terrible human being I have ever encountered_ , read one hastily written entry. She marvelled at how little had changed, in the grand scheme of things. Halfway into the journal, the entries gave way to notes of the feverish variety. They covered the pages, crawling up in odd directions and completed with arrows and stars marking connections or important themes. These were, of course, the notes Lily had taken while investigating Emma Bridgewater.

It occurred to her that while, for James, it had always been about Priscilla Goodwin, Lily had gone about things differently. She had followed the tragedy of Emma Bridgewater. If Lily's detailed notes were the story, then she was William Shakespeare and Emma had been her Hamlet. A tragic figure of a person, who she had known but not in the way a human knows another human. Emma had never let herself be known to Lily in that way.

Privately, Lily wondered if Emma had let herself be known to anyone like that.

Then, there was Priscilla. Truth be told, Lily often forgot about the missing girl. She was Lily's Ophelia. A story left incomplete. Lily paged through her notes, running her fingers over each line that contained Priscilla's name. They came far and few in between. From what Lily had read, nothing had been confirmed about Priscilla's disappearance. It had not been one of the charges that the Ravenclaw girls had admitted to. Lily wondered if they were keeping the truth concealed in hopes of a more lenient sentence. Or, was it something else?

Could Priscilla's story be held captive by someone else entirely?

/ / /

"Lily Evans," She sounded the same, Lily thought. Why had she expected a change? "I thought I told you that I wasn't interested in ever seeing you again?"

Lily smiled. "Happy New Year to you, too, Pippa."

The blonde crossed her arms over her chest. "Let me guess, here to implicate me in more crimes that I'm not involved in?"

"That depends on you, really," Lily replied, cocking her head, "got anything to confess?"

Pippa's eyes widened, fractionally. Lily blinked and Pippa's expression had regained its composure. If she hadn't seen the change herself, she wouldn't have believed it had happened at all. "I don't know why you keep playing these games with me, Lily, but it's sick of you," Pippa spat. "I lost four friends in one year. Try to imagine that for me, please. I found out that I had been sharing a room with murderers."

"It is surprising," agreed Lily. Pippa didn't seem to know how to take this admission. Her mouth opened and shut helplessly. "Jean and Adora were mean, sure, as mean as any girl is at your age. But, of all the times I talked to Emma, I don't recall their names coming up once. She was always stuttering out one name, actually. What was it, again? Ah, yes, Pi-"

"That's _enough_ , Evans,"

Lily's jaw tightened. "Potter," she managed. Her eyes raked over his tall frame, his wiry glasses, his hazel eyes, the firm line of his mouth. How many times had they passed each other in crowded corridors this past month? How many classes had they shared together each week? And yet she felt as if this was the first time she was seeing him since the year had begun. He looked older. "This isn't your business," said Lily evenly.

"You made it my business," he responded in equal tone. Her eyes flashed to the hand he rested on Pippa's shoulder. Reassuring, protective, or possessive, she could not place which one it was. But, still, she blazed under his gaze. "Go to class," he said, then, and it took Lily a second to realize that it was not directed at her, but Pippa. The blonde looked up at him like a scolded child. Then, resigned, she cast a final withering glance in Lily's direction before turning on her heel and starting down the corridor. "What do you think you're doing?" This was to Lily.

The redhead turned her head to meet his gaze directly. "I could ask you the same thing."

He dragged a hand through his hair. "This case has been closed, Detective," he said. Lily flinched at the word _Detective_. He was making fun of her. "It was all over the papers. Let's say you didn't see. I'll give you a brief, my courtesy. Two girls were already arrested for the murder of Emma and Priscilla. _Pippa_ turned them in."

"You know as well as I do that it doesn't make a modicum of sense," Lily argued. She held up her notebook. "I mean, _Priscilla?_ There's no _evidence_. Notice how they didn't mention any of the gory details about her death. Because they don't _have_ any. And Emma…" Lily's voice dropped to a whisper as a student passed by in a nearby corridor, "We _both_ know who exactly she was terrified of."

James sighed. "Your perception of Emma doesn't count as evidence, Evans, be reasonable. And I hate to be the one to tell you, but Jean and Adora were given Veritaserum in their trial. They pushed Emma themselves."

"It doesn't add up," Lily pressed.

James hardened his gaze on Lily. "It doesn't have to make sense," he said, "the evidence is there, the trial is over, they are in _prison_. It is _done_. Look, Evans, I know I started this. I know I was the one who pressured you to get involved in the first place. But, I'm telling you here and now that it's over. My mother is under inquiry, you know that. And the things I did to investigate that case will not be looked pleasantly upon if anyone were to find out. Beyond that, if you haven't realized, that girl you just harassed a few moments ago, she lost _everything_. Her confession alone meant that her mother was put under inquiry, too. I know you don't get what that's like. But I _do_. So, excuse me if I feel a little bit guilty."

"So, it's guilt you feel towards Pippa, is it? Right. Okay. And you felt so guilty that you kissed her?"

"I'm not getting into this with you again, Evans," His voice dripped with exasperation. He went on, "And I won't let you recklessly fuck with Pippa's life anymore, either. This ends here."

"Try to stop me, Potter."

* * *

A/N; When I do work up the energy to contribute to a chapter or the story as a whole, I'm often hit with the most amazing ideas. So, I'll start to draft those ideas, get distracted, and then I'll end up abandoning what I was working on and I won't come back to the story for several months. When I come back, I remember the idea, vaguely, but the details I intended to include are lost on me. Where am I going with this? Well, basically, if anything feels incongruent or wrong, that's why! Feel free to let me know, too, and I'll try to go back and fix it (or if not, correct the mistake for the future). I do have a (admittedly rough) story outline that I use as a guide for writing each chapter. The issue is that sometimes I change that outline while I'm writing, but never go back to the actual outline to document the changes. Anyway, it causes a lot of confusion, but I'm rambling again so I'll stop there.

I have another point to bring up, though. There is a part of me that feels - or worries, rather - that there is an element of toxicity in James and Lily's relationship. But, here's the thing. Relationships aren't always easy and simple and lovely. Romantic relationships and otherwise, I mean. And adolescence really only complicates and intensifies these things. Anyway, my point here is that if you are reading this, know that it's not always healthy for relationships to work like this. Healthy relationships can bloom out of this type of environment, but that isn't necessarily the rule, so yeah...take caution, kids. That said, let me clarify, I don't think Lily and James' relationship is inherently toxic. Why am I rambling about this here? I dunno!

As always, thank you all _so_ very much for reading and following and favoriting and reviewing. Also, I hope you enjoyed this longer chapter. If you're feeling up to it, please continue to read, follow, favorite, and review; I'd be gassed. [SIGNED, SAM]

Disclaimer: I have not switched bodies, Harry Potter is still not mine. Enough said, yeah?


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